LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



AFTER MANY YEARS 




CjPlc£*+d> c/Keny- Qycuradl 



AFTER MANY YEARS 



BY y 

RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE 

AUTHOR OF "MY OFFICIAL WIFE," " DELILAH OF HARLEM, 
"THE MASKED VENUS," ETC. 




7- 
CHICAGO AND NE 
F. TENNYSON NEELY, P 
MDCCCXCV 



^7^ 






COPYRIGHT 1895 

RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE 

All rig/its reserved 






DEDICATED TO MY WIFE 

January 2, 1895 



PART I. 
REFLECTION. 

PART II. 
SENTIMENT. 

PART III. 
HISTORY AND PLACE. 

PART IV. 
POLITICS AND MILITARY. 



PART I. 

REFLECTION. 



PART I. 

REFLECTION. 



Gbe "fUgbt TKJlatcb" at amsterfram. 



Proud is the city of Amsterdam, high fenced 

from the angry sea, 
With its towering masts, and heaped-up wealth, 

hard by the Zuyder Zee. 

For Nature's frown could not beat down the 

burghers stout and true 
Who held the town for centuries, while loud 

war's tocsin blew. 

And naught could fright the men of might who 

curbed the swelling main ; 
They fought against the foreign foe, and humbled 

haughty Spain ! 

Here the stout Dutchmen long have kept the 

trust with bosoms bold, 
And fathers guarded for their sons the city's keys 

to hold. 

I 



2 THE " NIGHT WA TCH" A T AMSTERDAM. 

In counsel grave, with mustering bands, and 

men of war at hand, 
The burghers saw their argosies blown back 

from every land. 

While empires tottered to their fall — Rome knew 
the battering ram — 

The city's colors floated free on the walls of Am- 
sterdam. 

And, in the great commercial mart, in pictured 

splendor, see — 
To-day, the faces of the brave who ruled the 

Zuyder Zee. 

Beyond the diamond's glittering flash, or reddest 

gold sequin, 
Shines out to-day the deathless name of great 

Rembrandt van Rhyn. 

Here, in a marble palace high, his priceless pict- 
ure glows : 

The " Night Watch " — as it went the rounds — to 
baffle civil foes ! 

Fair is the hall where, shining yet, upon the 

trophied walls, 
The " Night Watch " gleams ! The City's pride ! 

Its lesson never palls ! 

For pictured there, the train-band stout, the 

Captain at their head, 
Go forth in arms, with beating drums, the city 

walls to tread ! 



THE " NIGHT IVA TCH" A T AMSTERDAM. , 

Lest foreign foe, or civil broil, or inroad of the 

sea, 
Should break the golden peace which reigned 

upon the Zuyder Zee. 



Great Rembrandt sleeps — immortal, though — his 

lesson ne'er forgot — 
Still, the true burghers zealous watch for foemen 

coming not ! 

Though on the tranquil land and sea no hostile 

bugles sound, 
The trust is kept, in simple faith, and still the 

Watch goes round. 

There is no treasure which could win the " Night 

Watch " from its place, 
And solemn Dutchmen con the lessons Time 

can not efface. 



When all is still, at midnight's hour, the picture 

comes to me ; 
And oft I dream of that grave quest by the low 

Zuyder Zee. 

My Country ! Torn with factions now, where 

are the mighty great 
Whose shades should stalk, a warning band, to 

watch the threatened state ? 



For civil jars, corruption's worm, the anarch's 

poisoned speech, 
The cold contempt of haughty rich — gross evils 

beyond reach ! 

Make every day a wider gap between Columbia's 
sons 

Than lanes of slaughtered dead, struck down, be- 
neath the foemen's guns ! 

Come forth ! Immortal Washington ! Great 

Lincoln ! Grant, the True ! 
And walk the country's boundaries, and lessons 

teach anew ! 

That brother love makes brother blood — that 

Union strength imparts, 
And, in the night which shades us now, keep 

watch upon our hearts ! 

We still can mock at foreign foes — but bid the 

signal sound 
To rally for the Land we Love — and, let the 

" Watch " go round ! 



THE VEILED MUSE. 



Gbe tDcilcD /Ruse. 



She haunts this misty world, we know, 
Though veiled to mortal eyes — 
The muse who heard the bright stars sing 
That morn in Paradise. 
Her footsteps strewed the Asian world 
With Song's eternal flowers, 
Which bloomed — the lotus of the heart- 
In brighter days than ours. 

For all was peace, and all was love — 

The sword slept in its sheath, 

And God the Father then smiled down 

On heavenly peace beneath ; 

But, passion soon woke Sorrow's lyre, 

The ark o'er man's grave sailed, 

And her eternal shining face 

Now hovers o'er us, veiled ! 

mystic halls, in ages dead, 
The " King " old China's lays 
Swelled out in notes whose spirit voice 
Is lost in later days. 



THE VEILED MUSE. 

A silence wrapped the Flowery Land 
For, west to India's strand, 
The Veda's solemn song rang out 
Beneath her magic hand ! 

And Persia and Assyria knew 

That one immortal face : 

The singing muse, who in our hearts 

Still holds the highest place. 

But Babel's mound the wolf's howl mocks, 

And, Egypt's songs are done ; 

Yet, muses nine were born — in love — 

Beneath a Grecian sun ! 

The bright-browed Isis, whose grand eyes 

Shone down on Philae's isle, 

Knew every trace of her veiled face, 

Her all-entrancing smile ; 

But, Death and Silence rule to-day 

Old Egypt's caverned halls ! 

No more by Babylonian streams 

The Hebrew harp enthralls ! 

Great Homer, honey-lipped, well knew 

The goddness, fond and kind ; 

She lingered, star-eyed, at his birth, 

Yet the great Greek was blind ! 

No man may know why veiled she walks, 

From our eyes, sealed apart, 

But, with her sacred loving hand 

She touched that Grecian's heart ! 



THE VEILED MUSE. 

The shrines of Brahma, Vishnu too, 

Are silent in our days ; 

And, echo no more in the groves 

The old Castalian lays ! 

For Sin crept in, Man's heart grew black, 

And, in those days of old, 

A finger touched the gods of Greece, 

Then, Art and Song lay cold ! 

The laughing muses vanished then, 

Great Pan died racked with pain ! 

To pale-faced Christ, with hand of power, 

They bowed, yet — all in vain ! 

For fled the song, and veiled the muse, 

From Man's heart proud and wrong ! 

The human soul a burden bears 

Too sad for olden song ! 

The gods are dead ! The muses fled ! 

Still the veiled goddess clings 

Unto our better nature, singing 

Bright eternal things I 

Grave Milton felt her fond caress ! 

She haunted Dante's dreams ! 

And wandered with our Shakespeare, by 

Those winding English streams ! 

Great Mother veiled ! Dear Goddess ! All 

Before your altar bow ! 

In fadeless beauty, you are still 

A presence near us now ! 



THE VEILED MUSE. 

For, stooping from your heavenly clouds, 
Though Goethe wooed — in pride — 
You leaned and kissed that friendless lad, 
Pale Schiller, at his side ! 

You linger near us, here below, 

Though still you walk apart ; 

And thrill the tides which come and go 

In the fond human heart ! 

For, leaving kings and fortune's fools 

To mock at all you bring, 

You waked the slumbering heart of Burns 

And bade that peasant sing ! 

Be near us in these later days ! 

Our hearts your mandates hold 

As God's own law ! You touch the bays 

Of Song, with heaven-sent gold ! 

Friend of the poor and friendless ! Still 

Unto a dark world bring 

That mystic smile which wreathes your lips 

In God's eternal Spring ! 



BENEATH THE PYRAMID. 



JBeneatb tbe jp^ramfD. 

" The Treasury of the Kings of the Twelfth Dynasty Un- 
earthed \ y '—New York Herald, March 9, 1894. 



Far in the dreamy land of Nile, 
Hard by the fringing Libyan sand, 
Where the stern Sphinx keeps aye its watch, 
The Pyramids in silence stand. 

Blown off from great Napoleon's field, 
Upon their rocky faces clings 
The dead slaves' ashes, mingling now 
With sacred dust of Egypt's kings ! 

The thought which framed the pyramid 
Still to its veiled mystery clings ; 
And haunting genii whisper there 
Of dark, unfathomable things. 

The magic of masonic art 
Is hidden in its squares and lines, 
Its mystic shape, with artful craft, 
A long-lost secret lore confines. 



IO BENEATH THE PYRAMID. 

Still, as the north star crawls its course 
In cycles, round the boreal pole, 
Through galleries dark, a gleaming spark 
Recalls the great inventive soul. 

His very art is dead to us, 
The secrets buried now for aye ; 
While underneath, in rift and crypt, 
The human spoiler delves to-day. 

Beneath the sparkling Southern Cross 
Where God's great stars gleam calmly down, 
Far 'neath the fabric Reason raised, 
They find, to-day, an earthly crown ! 

A crypt, where in the royal tomb 
Lie gems and gold, the signs of power — 
Man's kingly crown prized here below, 
As mark of one triumphal hour. 

'Tis well ! The cunning magic art, 
The web of thought, proud Reason's work, 
Is lost — To-day, in Christ's own land 
Flies proud, the crescent of the Turk ! 

The minion of an earthly king 
With joy brings forth the badge of Power — 
Which clattered from a drooping head 
Prone once in Death's imperial hour ! 



BENEATH THE PYRAMID. 

Ah ! Fool and blind ! To only find 
Where Reason's arts are lost for aye, 
The crown of man's dominion brief, 
Poor puppets of a summer day ! 

Lay down the dross ! Let the dead sleep ! 
Lift up your eyes to nobler things ! 
When Reason fails, then turn the heart 
To God — the King of earthly kings ! 

His treasure gleams in Heaven's blue skies 
Above the baffled reasoner's pride — 
Where pyramid weighs down the king 
His dust heaped there, his crown beside. 

Look up ! See there above us all 
The Southern Cross eternal swing ! 
In golden flames it still proclaims 
Of Power and Reason, God is King ! 



I2 AT RUBENS' TOMB. 



Bt IRubens' Gomb. 

Church of St. Jacques, Antwerp. 



It seems that something half immortal 
Around his memory clings 
Peter Paul Rubens' magic pencil 
Made him the peer of Kings 

They die. They vanish. And their haughty 

names 
Are lost with meaner dust ; 
But, Antwerp's pride stern Time defies, 
And mocks at moth and rust 

Here, o'er his tomb, the Virgin smiles 
With softly dreaming eyes, 
And, in Her arms, the Holy Child points out 
The path to Paradise. 

Wrought by his hand — in faith and trusting 

love — 
Above the painter, sleeping nigh, 
'Tis Love Eternal tells the worldling here 
That Art can never die ! 



A T RUBENS' TOMB. 

In reverence the Christian gazes, awed 
To see that sad " Descent " 
He painted, after Death had stopped 
The way Our Saviour went ! 

Oh ! Mystery of Faith and Art ! 

His fame has endless youth ! 

Where Rubens sleeps — a graceful shade- 

There's Art and Love and Truth ! 



THE RECORD. 



XLhc IRecorfc. 



Youth laid its glowing hand upon my brow, 
The fire it lent is chilled and sinking now ! 

Love sang its song, and showed one face — a 

star — 
Its music sadly echoes down Memory's halls 

afar ! 

Hope smiled and flattered, to the very last — 
And from my side, unseen, went smiling past ! 

Life rushed on gaily, varied banks beside — 
And now, the harbor near, I float upon the tide ! 

The record, all summed up ! Howe'er the story 

ran — 
Of joys that thrilled, or hopes that failed, "There 

lived a man ! " 



THE UNFINISHED WINDOW. j- 



Gbe TDUtfintebefc TlClfnfcow in Bla&Mn's Sower. 



I LINGERED by the flowing Rhine in vacant 

mood, at falling eve, 
Reluctant, at the beck of night, the ever-witching 

scenes to leave ; 
And on the crag of Drachenfels, as purple shades 

began to lower, 
A ruined arch brought back to me, the story of 

Aladdin's Tower ! 

A score of years have silvered o'er the temples 

bright with gayest youth, 
Since last I marked the view I loved, and age 

brings now a solemn truth, 
That nothing perfect comes to us, it hovers just 

beyond our power, 
And every one a window owns, unfinished, in 

Aladdin's Tower ! 

The crystal vase, the faultless face, the rhyme 
which rings with dying fall, 

The form we strain unto our breast, the pleas- 
ures which must always pall. 



j 5 THE UNFINISHED WINDOW 

The dreams we wove, our cherished friends, the 
sweets which slowly turn to sour, 

Are proofs of that unfinished window gaping in 
Aladdin's Tower. 

We strain and grasp and just do pass the perfect 

in its ideal truth, 
And hoary age, a boy again, repeats the heedless 

faults of youth. 
The world is patched with perfect creeds, and 

codes to meet the changing hour, 
But every point of view shows still that faulty 

window in the Tower. 

That something short of perfect peace, that last 

ambition sorely missed, 
The chain which galls in secret 'neath the ropes 

of pearl upon the wrist, 
The world chase for the happy man, the evils 

under which we cower, 
Are standing proofs of ownership, in common, of 

Aladdin's Tower ! 

We seek the best, the better flies ! We crave 
perfection's glowing mould, 

And on the wearying chase we drag, with halt- 
ing steps and pulses cold. 

Would you be happy, wise, and true ? Would 
you be braver, better men ? 

Turn inward every critic eye ! Scan not Alad- 
din's Tower again ! 



IN ALA DDIN'S TO WER . j * 

That one unfinished window gapes forever o'er 

your neighbor's wall. 
Now, when the royal secret's learned, it is not in 

his tower at all ! 
Go on your way with brighter heart ! Be good ! 

and covet not his pelf ! 
Turn your eyes inward, and begin to finish your 

own Tower yourself! 
2 



j8 PAUL AND VIRGINIA. 



Paul anfc Virginia. 



I met them again this evening, 
For they haunt me where'er I go, 
As over the beaten path of Life 
I wander to and fro ! 

To-night they were straying, happy, 
Beneath the Thiergarten trees : 
Paul, youthful but sturdy and manly ; 
Virginia, a merry tease ! 

'Twas clear from the roses she gazed on 
They had made it up for life, 
And the flaxen-haired Teuton Romeo 
Had chosen his little wife ! 

Ah ! Their faces bring back others 
I've watched in Life's morning hour : 
The procession of happy lovers, 
The maid with the simple flower. 

The youth, with his stainless brow lit up 
With boyhood's unsullied fire ; 
The dreaming maiden's downcast eyes, 
A stranger to Desire ! 



PAUL AND VIRGINIA. 



*9 



I sigh as I see them wander 

Away in the summer land ; 

But I smile, as I watch them, from afar, 

Still clinging hand to hand ! 

For often I've seen with sadness 
In the noon, on Life's broad highway 
Paul in the strangest company 
And Virginia — led astray ! 

I mind me of little feet I knew 
That stopped on the lengthening track : 
A mist of the vanished years brings tears 
When I think of looking back ! 

Poor little Virginia ! Somewhere, perhaps, 
Beyond that sparkling star, 
She leans, with an infinite pity, 
For the shadows we mortals are ! 

Tis better so ! For I've sometimes seen Paul 
Alone, with no friend at hand, 
And Virginia's voice heard ringing 
At the head of the devil's band ! 

But my heart goes out to the trusting ones 
Love-pledged, walking here to-night ; 
And I try to feel, in my inmost soul, 
Some way it will come out right ! 

For there's nothing as sweet as the first true love, 

And, this truth is known to all ; 

But I learn it anew, as my kindly eyes 

Bless Virginia and ardent Paul. 



2 o 8&N HAFIZ, THE MUEZZIN. 



JBen Daff3, tbe /I&ue33*n« 



Far lifted from the city's jar and fret 
Ben Hafiz watched upon the minaret ; 

And gazing where the Prophet's city stands, 
A benediction waved from wrinkled hands. 

His prayerful voice was raised — the hour was 

nigh— 
To Allah lifted his imploring eye. 

Below him, sparkled many a twinkling fire, 
Where pilgrims camped around the sacred spire. 

" Oh ! Where is God ? " The old muezzin 

cries, 
With eagle glance, he scans the vaulted skies. 

All silent trembled the thin realms of air — 
Ben Hafiz vainly sought an answer there ! 

Beneath his feet, stretched far the sapphire sea — 
" Lo ! In its depths — Divinity may be ! " 

The blue waves ripple on the lonely shore, 
No token reached him in their hollow roar ! 



BEN HAFIZ, THE MUEZZIN. 2I 

The camp fires leaped, their red glow mounting 

higher. 
He pondered : " There ! Perchance, is Allah 

nigher ! " 

Bright gleams lit up the sleeping host in vain — 
Not a response ! Ben Hafiz asked again. 

The mountains, hung above him, crested round, 
Caught his quick eye — " Is God, there, hidden 

found ? " 
But scarped rocks and peaks all silent lay — 
With no reply, Ben Hafiz turned away ! 

"Alas ! All silent ! " The muezzin cried. 
The hopes which warmed his heart, in sadness 
died ! 

" Earth, air and fire — the waters, I explore — 
«« For God, whose footsteps here return no 
more ! " 

When, like a lark, a sweet voice thrilled above ! 
An angel sang — » Ben Hafiz ! God is Love ! " 



2 2 THE DEAD SINGERS. 



Gbe Beafc Singers. 

Fainter, still fainter, echoes far 
The world's refrain of deathless song — 
Their fingers mouldered now, who swept 
The lyre, with matchless touch, so long ! 

Gray distance veils that primal shore 
Which gave us Music, lost no more. 
We listen to the lovers' lute ; 
Yet — the eternal stars are mute ! 

The laurel swept from Homer's brows 
Lies 'neath the sands of Hermes' tomb ; 
On Omar Khayvan's hidden mound 
The roses breathe their faint perfume ! 

From far Cathay there steals, to-day, 
Across our world, so time-scarred grown, 
The fateful burden of the Past — 
That weird Confucian monotone ! 

Egyptian, Persian, bright-browed Greek, 
The Aryan, choir of storied past, 
With laureled Roman bards of old 
Have solved Life's mystery — at last ! 



THE DEAD SINGERS. 



23 



The lips are pallid all, which gave 
The Troubadour a lover's prize ; 
And Skald and Minnesinger fade, 
In mystic cycles, from our eyes ! 

By life's unending road, Death-led, 
The Singers sleep — a mute array ; 
While bard and beauty blend their dust, 
Their songs thrill in our hearts to-day ! 

In newer life, with Passion's breast 
Of fire, the later poet sings 
With strains caught up by spirit voice, 
The memory of forgotten things ! 

Brave men who strove — bright eyes thatshone- 
True hearts that loved, or sadly beat — 
Pass in a shadow dance, while dust 
Of Kings clings to the peasant's feet ! 

Thus — the great singers, chanting, go 
To Silence : — all mankind among ! 
Their ashes blown in viewless winds — 
But Death can never still the Song ! 



2 a JW THE GUEST CHAMBER. 



Hn tbe <3uest Gbamber. 



Full many a tent's Arabian fold 

Has lifted to my weary foot, 
And, now the days are growing cold, 

The music of the lover's lute- 
Dies far away ! A pilgrim, tired 

With trudging in Life's caravan, 
No more by glowing hope inspired, 

I mark the road where it began ! 

For, winding down in boyhood's days 
The purple mountains stretched afar, 

A hand clasped mine in Love's blind maze, 
And o'er me swung a sparkling star ! 

I lingered where the shining light 
Of sweet Fatima's diamond eyes 

Lit up the gardens of my youth, 

And turned those days to Paradise ! 

The trumpet sound of manhood called 
To life each drop of bounding blood ; 

And, by no craven fears appalled, 
I joined Man's earnest brotherhood ! 



IN THE GUEST CHAMBER. 25 

By lonely paths, in Life's bazaars, 

I struggled in the busy crowd ! 
To-day, content, I wear my scars ! 

I've chummed with humble and with proud ! 

Yet many a kindly hand was oped 

For me the hair-tent's grateful shade ; 

And, when in blinding storms I groped, 
My brothers cheered " Be not afraid ! " 

And round me wrapped the mantle oft 
Of comradeship to guard and guide ; 

And, when the skies were dark aloft, 
I've found staunch pilots at my side. 

The silver star-beams, once beloved 
Have frosted o'er my storm-tossed hair, 

But yet I gaze and still rejoice 

To greet the star still sparkling there ! 

High o'er me, once, that singing star 
Breathed songs of Hope — and then, of Love ! 

But now in Heaven it trembles far, 
The lamp of Faith, firm-poised above ! 

From caravansera to town 

I've lingered many a chamber in, 
And trustfully have laid my head 

Where'er my lot to rest has been ! 

Abdallah, in his palace halls, 

Once, but a striving friend of mine — 

Lists as the loud muezzin calls, 
To lowing voice of myriad kine. 



2 6 IN THE GUEST CHAMBER. 

For him the harem fountains flow, 
For him, the priceless jewel shines, 

For him, the white sails southward blow, 
For him, slaves toil in mart and mine ! 

But, singing on my way, I go, 
Content with all my varied lot ! 

The last guest-chamber where we sleep 
Will see us equal — and, forgot ! 



RO THSCHILD'S HO USE IN FRA NKFOR T. 2 7 



^Before IRotbscbilD's bouse in ffrankfort. 

In treading Life's contracted round, 
My wandering footsteps turn again 
To Frankfort, loved in early youth — 
That pleasant city on the Main ! 

I pause, and rub astonished eyes 
Beneath my gray and bushy brows : 
The city fair seems strangely young ; 
Eut, here, stands Meyer Rothschild's house 

Vain quest of gold has made me old ! 
The power of gold has made it young ! 
For, newer palaces now throng 
The crumbling landmarks there among ! 

The Palmengarten's tropic sham 
Draws maid and lover, 'neath the stars ; 
And still the Ariadne gleams — 
Time's tooth no fleck its beauty mars ! 

The vast Cathedral yet enshrines 
The crumbling tombs of knight and dame ; 
And fainter grow the Latin lies 
Encircling each Archbishop's name. 



2 g ROTHSCHILD'S HOUSE IN FRANKFORT. 

I mark the helm of Sieur Lameth; 
A noble once, of high degree ; 
Upon his breast the laureled sword 
Still heralds Glory's mockery ! 

So Nature, art and Romance old 
Speak yet ! The town is rich and proud ! 
But all must yield to Gold the palm; 
Tis Meyer Anselm draws the crowd ! 

Down in the little narrow street, 
The gate-barred alley of the Jew, 
Troop throngs of eager human dolts, 
To give to Wealth its homage due ! 

'Tis true that, high in honor raised, 
The form of Goethe nobly stands ; 
There, Schiller's rapt face thrills me yet, 
The youth with lyre in nervous hands ! 

A bookworm, here and there, may halt 
To see the roof whence Luther went 
To face Rome's thunders, with a heart 
Of steel, his brows in anger bent ! 

The house of Goethe, trim and neat, 
Attracts the wanderer's passing eye ; 
But Rothschild was borne down the street, 
And, quick the traveler hurries by ! 

Oh, Frankfort ! faithful to the creed ! 
The cold hard creed of later days ! 
Tear down the homes of seer and sage — 
Pluck off the poet's withered bays ! 



ROTHSCHILD'S HOUSE IN FRANKFORT. 

The age of Iron now is past ; 
Lameth's vain sword is gnawed with rust ; 
The mighty soul to far realms fled 
Which animated Luther's dust ! 

The haughty dames who lived and loved 
Have found, in stone, eternal rest ; 
And violets spring unmarked to-day 
From pretty Gretchen's lowly breast ! 

Let gaping crowds in raptures loud 
Bend low before the banker's den ; 
Next door, a dealer sells old clothes — 
And Gold is King, to-day as then ! 



'■9 



3° 



THE ARIEL OF THE PAST. 



Zhc mid of tbe past. 

A Memory Dream. 



Graceful and exquisite, hovering near, she 
waits, 

The one 1 love so well — 
Dear, dreaming Memory, in her slender hands 

She clasps her hollow shell ! 

Dainty-shaped Ariel ! Truest now of all 

The vanished friendly sprites, 
She saw the passing time of Love and Hope 

Yet, still her spell delights ! 

Lingering, yet faithful to the one she served, 
In youth's time of bright eyes, and hopes once 
dear, 
Within the shadow of the evening, faithfullest of 
all, 
Fondly she watches near ! 

What voices loved, whose notes have died away, 

Her magic shell calls up ! 
Still in her eyes I see the tender glance 

Of her who shared Life's cup ! 



THE ARIEL OF THE PAST. 3 x 

The cup of Love ! Drained in the hours of bliss, 

The one I called mine own — 
Dear sprite of Memory, you alone bring this 

Sweet shade back to her throne ! 

All of the unforgotten past whose pearls lie 
scattered 

Along Life's winding shore — 
You paint for me, with tender artist touches, 

The clays that come no more 1 

Round me your dear enchantment ever flinging 
Through weary day and lonely night, 

Nepenthe's draught, in loving-kindness bringing, 
Sweet sprite, with brows of light 

Still linger with me, Ariel of the Past, 

On your rich lips one dainty finger pressed— 

And, pointing to the sunlight far beyond the 
river, 
Lead, lead me on to rest ! 

No more the jar of earthly things can fret 
As down the river to its mouth I glide — 

For you call up her my soul worships yet, 
And bring her back, dear Ariel, to my side 



^2 BEFORE SCHILLER'S STA TUE. 



^Before Scbtller's Statue. 



Here, in the lovely Thiergarten, 

Shaded by nodding trees, 
Stands Friedrich Schiller carved in stone, 

Near beautiful Louise. 

No passion fills the pulseless heart ! 

All sightless, gleam his eyes ! 
Yet Genius breaks that dreamless rest ! 

With noblest harmonies ! 

His lifted hand and sunlit brow 

Are potent now — as when, 
With patriot fire and manly song, 

He cheered his fellow-men ! 

For Schiller's proud and loyal soul 
Raised his land's courage high, 

When Goethe dangled at a court, — 
To catch a pigmy's eye. 

He saw Germania's flag trailed low ! 

The tears of Queen Louise, — 
And strongly smote on Freedom's lyre, 

The battle-call that frees ! 



BEFORE SCHILLER'S STA TUE. 

Warm blood, hot head, and loving soul, 
He points the German sword : 

To strike again for Vaterland, 
And stay the invading horde ! 

His deathless words ring down the years 
For, living thoughts are things, — 

Which shine, eternal, far above 
The diadems of kings ! 

Beloved by maid, — by gallant youth, — 
Free, headlong, brave, and bold ! 

Fame gilds the bays on that cold brow, 
With glints of heaven-sent gold ! 
3 



33 



FREDERICK THE GREA T. 

34 



ff reDedcft tbe Great. 



Here sleeps below, in silence grim, 
Frederick the Great, on whom Fate poured 
A wealth hard-won, and sharply fought for — 
With the hungry Prussian sword ! 
The coldest Hohenzollern heart — 
A man of " philosophic parts," 
Who lived and died — shunned — feared — alone, 
A " dilettante of the arts ! " 

" Kingship divine " led him to fill 
A hundred thousand battle graves. 
He much improved the soldier's drill 
And — neatly uniformed his slaves ! 
Of keen, bright brain, it seems he had 
No heart — less sterling honesty 
Than Alexander, who " passed out" 
In drunken fit, at thirty-three ! 

The victor Greek bequeathed " The World 
Unto the Strongest," with no claim 
But wholesale butchery, to gild 
The " glory of his deathless name ! " 
And Csesar and Napoleon, too — 



FREDERICK THE GREAT. 

Devoid of hypocritic rant — 

Scourged all mankind, yet both disdained 

To use this " philosophic " cant ! 

Yet, " Suum Cuique " shines out to-day, 
Upon the Prussian soldier's brows ; 
But still, Silesia's stolen lands 
Its application hardly shows ! 
When Polish peasants shrieked and yelled 
Beneath the Prussian's armed heel, 
Did Frederick then the candid sage 
Or " royal robber " most reveal ? 

Ah ! Cain's hand, spattered with the blood 
Of brother, to the first grave sent, 
Proved murder — but, 'tis different 
When killing's done by regiment ! 
The moping hours — the wailing flute — 
His scorn for toiling burgher fool — 
Shows this philosopher, " old Fritz," 
Had never conned " The Golden Rule !" 

His heirs, to-day, would happier sit 

Upon a somewhat narrower throne, 

If Frederick's motto guided them — 

" Let every man enjoy his own ! " 

Is the one title to high fame — 

The art, by blood, to build the realm ; 

And count no head a noble one, 

Which does not wear the warrior's helm ? 

Ah ! Sickening sham of tyrant craft 
What stuff of King Stork or King Log 



35 



,6 FREDERICK THE GREAT. 

Where is the land where labor groans ? 
The woman toiling with the dog ? 
Where half a million idle drones 
With useless sabres clank the streets ! 
The cringing burgher seeks the gutter 
When the bold " man at arms " he meets ! 

Tear off the flaunting falsehood here ! 
'Tis only good men who are great ! 
The honest brow, alone, should shine 
Oak-wreathed, in a happy state ! 
Greater the heir of freedom's crown 
Who plows with prairies, peaceful dressed, 
And sees a happy wife, afar, 
With babe upon her loving breast ! 

Count me the men as great, who herald 
Science, knowledge — yet unborn ! 
I love the song the free winds breathe 
Through tasselled lances of the corn ! 
That wily churchman, Richelieu, 
Red-robed, throned in his wisdom gray, 
Cried " States without it can be saved ! " 
" So ! Take the needless sword away ! " 

The Germans great ! where Luther leads ! 
And Goethe, Humboldt, grand array ! 
With Heine, Schiller, Lessing, Kant ! 
All matchless in the world to-day ! 
These human pearls on sands of Time, 
Upon Germania's shores were poured ! 



FREDERICK THE GREAT. 



37 



Their deathless names shine out beyond 
The man of war who bears the sword ! 



The Great ! Where's Edison and Morse ? 

Who gave to Thought its swiftest wings ? 

Old Homer — Milton — Shakespeare — who 

Revealed imperishable things ? 

The Great and Good ! where's Lincoln's name ? 

All malice-proof — Immortal his ! — 

Old John Brown — gallows hallowed — with 

That negro babe's mute parting kiss ! 

You call him "great" who ruled in blood ! 

In battle's flame and frantic jar ? 

Who cleared a path with robber sword 

Among his neighbors near and far ! 

Far greater Russia's manly Czar 

Who held his millions from the field, 

And never lit the torch of war ! 

Whose stainless soul King Death revealed ! 



38 



PURITY. 



purity 

Upon the heights, now, side by side, 
We walk, with senses purified. 
No human passion whispers there, 
In sparkling depths of crystal air. 

Far down below us, earthly love 

Still strives the human heart to move ; 

But, one in soul, we stand apart 

From passion's storms, with tranquil heart ! 

From whence this power ? This chastened 

love ? 
Look, clear-eyed, up to God above ! 
With blameless thought, — for Thoughts are 

Things ! 
Where, round His brow, the rainbow clings ! 

The once frail love, now purified, 
Leaves us no darkening sin, to hide ! 
And, stronger love than man e'er sought, 
Burns in our Heaven-sent higher thought ! 



SHAKESPEARE. -^ 



Sbaftespeare. 

Above a cringing world he clings 
To Heaven's eternal walls — 
An eagle eye, a voice that sounds 
A strain which never falls ! 

It lingers — ringing far above — 
A herald from the sky — 
To dower the weaklings of the earth 
With thoughts that cannot die ! 



BURNS. 



JBurns. 

[Impromptu.] 



The gentlest heart, with kindest thought, 
Unto his memory turns — 
Love's sweetest raptures thrilling yet 
The tender lyre of Burns. 



ROBER T DE VERE UX. 



41 



•Robert 2>e\>ereui. 



IN the heart of Berlin town, 
Where the human hive swarms round, 
Passing an old graveyard through, 
I saw " Robert Uevereux." 

Underneath a huge black stone, 
Hidden from our mortal eyes, 
These two words, in faded gold, 
Tell of him, who 'neath it lies ! 

Nothing more ! The simple name ! 
But these solemn words are true ! 
You and I, my passing friend, 
Will be soon like Devereux ! 

There he sleeps ! No line to tell 
If another loved him well ! 
Strangers pass, like I and you, 
Heedless of poor Devereux ! 

Yet, as soundly sleeps he there, 
As if the loyely Taj in air, 
Rose above him, in the blue ! 
Naught complains poor Devereux ! 



4 2 



ROBER T DE VERE UX. 

Sleeps as softly 'neath the sod ! 
Just as near to man and God, 
As if the Invalides' dome threw 
Shadows over Devereux ! 

King and peasant, pale shades passed, 
Equal meet in Death at last ! 
Read this lesson ! If we knew 
What is known to Devereux ! 

Friendless ! No ! For God's love holds 
Him wrapped up in Mercy's folds ! 
Some one, once loved ! — Some one knew 
Vanished Robert Devereux ! 



THE SIVORD. 



43 



TLbe SworD. 



There, on an olden field, it lay — 

As it dropped from a nerveless hand : 

Where the harvest of death was long gathered, 

A rusting and blood-stained brand ! 

Around it the grass was waving fair, 

The fields with new riches stored. 

But, never a tender shoot sprang up, 

Under the blade of the sword ! 

Still, by the fortressed castle walls 

The shadows hang black as night ! 

There's never a fruit to tempt the hand ! 

There's never a blossom bright ! 

There are deserts — blood-hallowed — stretching 

far, 
Where Nature its wealth outpoured, 
But, the blackened rafter and hearthstone lone, 
Mark the path of the hungry sword ! 

In kingly courts of Vanity Fair, 

The sword, at a loiterer's side, 

Tells of noble rank — but it seems to me, 

Only murder glorified ! 



44 THE sword. 

Accursed be the hand that forged 
The first heart-piercing blade ! 
May that curse be deepened by the wail 
Of the widows its work has made ! 

The sobbing child, — the home defiled, — 

Man's heritage of woe : — 

Still, over the earth, — the grim hell-birth 

Of slayers, go to and fro ! 

But, the falchion's gleams are Hell's own 

beams, 
Let him bear the blade who can ! 
There's a curse above, from the God of Love, 
On who slays his fellow-man ! 

Ah ! The world is old, and our hearts grown 

cold, 
Or some thrill of a spark divine, 
From the King of Kings, to these crowned 

things, 
Might thunder these words benign : 
" Thou shalt not kill ! " A heaven-born law 
By the warrior craft ignored, 
There's a curse on that glittering devil of steel ! 
The brother-devouring sword ! 



PART II. 
SENTIMENT. 



PART II. 
SENTIMENT. 



"%ox>e Ibauntcfc."* 



Your face is with me in the night 

Out on the sea, 
And all I dreamed of heaven bright — 

It brings to me, 
A star to guide, a hope to bless, 
A mystery of loveliness ! 

Your love has sealed our souls for aye, 

Dear one, afar, 
My heart, unswerving, turns each day 

To where you are, 
That other soul my being knows, 
And seeks within your breast repose ! 

Your voice, is stealing on me now, 
With passion's thrill. 

* Music by Sebastian Bach Schlesinger. — Published by J. H. 
Schroder. 

47 



4 8 



"love haunted: 

Love's fadeless light upon your brow, 

You hold me, still, 
In bonds whose sway, I now confess, 
Love's magic charm of tenderness ! 

Some day 



TO A FRIENDLY PAGAN GOD. 



49 



Go a ffrfenolE jpa^an <3oo. 



Ho ! Somnus ! Great veiled god of sleep ! To 

me the poppy bring ! 
Throw down the dying torch of Day, its last 

spark lingering ! 
In deep Cimmerian darkness wreathe the locks 

around my brow ; 
I hear her footfalls echo ! My Love ! She 

cometh now ! 

Ye mystic three, who rule the shifting shapes of 

fleeting dreams, 
Quench every star and drive afar the moonlight's 

glancing beams ! 
Come ! Morpheus and Phobetor ! Phantasmus ! 

Hear my vow ! 
My soul is yours, magicians three ! Call her 

back to me now ! 

Nay ! Not your awful brother Death who claims 

mankind his prey ! 
His shrouded face I will not brook, his straggling 

locks of gray ! 
4 



His sable cloak floats not above my vanished 

darling's form ; 
Come ! Somnus ! At thy feet I kneel ! Quell 

this heart's racking storm ! 

For blessed Sleep, with iris dreams, alone can 
bring her near ! 

The one whom every bounding pulse-throb hails 
more fondly dear ! 

Her Dian form — her love-kissed lips — the eyes ot 
tender light ! 

Bring back the lost one ! Call her to my dark- 
ened soul, to-night ! 

One night of dreams ! Filled with rapt love, and 
fairy minstrelsy ! 

Nay ! Turn not ! Somnus ! Grant this loving 
cheat but once, to me ! 

Here ! Bring the poppy bowl ! I see her memory- 
painted charms ! 

Hail, Somnus ! For I clasp her now, within my 
loving arms ! 

Ah ! Linger with me, dreamy shades, soft 

ministers of Night ! 
Turn back thy dial, Time ! for she must vanish 

with the light ! 
Upon her heart in happy sleep still let me, rapt, 

incline ! 
She comes ! The Darling of my soul ! Her 

heart beats close to mine ! 



TO A FRIENDL Y PAGAN GOD. r j 

For tar the path, and long the cruel stretch of 

Life's strange way 
Her little feet have wandered, and I walk alone 

to-day ! 
Great Somnus ! At your shrine I kneel ! Oh ! 

Pagan god of might ! 
My soul is yours when to my heart my dearest 

comes at night ! 



r> UNDER THE ROSE 1 



"dnSer Gbe TRose! 

The Story of a Picture. 



You fain would read her story, as she stands 
With downcast eyes, and clasps her slender 

hands, 
Pressed to the warm breast, where wild rapture 

glows ; 
That secret deep is hidden — 'neath the rose ! 

For Love has sealed her dainty lips from all ; 
She hears ! But, only answers to one call. 
You crave to know to whom her spirit goes 
Out in Love's silent pledge ? Ah ! ask the rose ! 

For one alone she waits with dreaming eyes ; 
A sigh. A smile ! Two arms in glad surprise 
Would clasp him to that throbbing heart ! Who 

knows 
That happy lover's name ? Only the rose ! 

For one now absent, in her heart of hearts 
She longs in Love's sweet pain ! Its thrill im- 
parts 
The only pain that fairest bosom knows. 
When will he come ? She only asks the rose ! 



UNDER THE ROSE ! r^ 

In clinging white, youth's light upon her brow, 
She stands, my heart's own darling, waiting 

now ; 
A dream of Love ! Her color comes and goes ! 
She guards my life — my soul — under the rose ! 



54 



ON REV1ENT TOUJOURS. 



©n IRevient ftoujours. 



We watched the sunset fires burn out 

Upon the hills ; the meadow 
Slept quiet ; far below us there 

The river ran in shadow. 

The nodding branches kissed the tide, 
Where white sails faintly gleaming, 

Slow drifted by ; the mountains high, 
In silence stern lay dreaming. 

Each chiselled crag its dark shade threw, 

In quaint lines on the river. 
The song the laughing ripples sang 

That night, will haunt me ever. 

Her eyes met mine, and then dropped down 
Their sweet glance told the story ; 

Hope promised then a future bright, 
With more than sunset glory. 

Her little hand lay long in mine, 

Her voice in cadence tender, 
Thrilled all my soul with feeling grand, 

Nor tongue nor pen can render. 



ON RE VIE NT TO UJO URS. r c 

Long since that Summer night is fled ; 

The grass comes to the meadow, 
Sweet Spring leaves tremble on the trees, 

Sleeps on the stream the shadow. 

Fond nature gives, with artist hand, 
Each year some newer splendor, 

To make more rare and lovely still, 
The landscape's outlines tender. 

I bridge the intervening years, 

Call back the sunset glory ; 
But may not mend the broken threads 

Of life's unfinished story ! 



56 



THE LAST FOR GE T-ME-NO TS. 



£be Xast 3forQet*/fce*1Rots. 

These, for your breast, my darling one — 
The simple flowers that near you dwell. 
They bloomed beneath your summer suns, 
And — Autumn brings our sad farewell. 
Close clinging to your tender heart, 
Their mute caress may backward bring 
A joy we shared, and still impart 
That thrill of Love which came with Spring 
And, as the Winter days decline, 
Still whisper from my heart to thine ! 

Still in your throbbing bosom glows 
The love which brought your head to rest, 
With blushes brighter than the rose, 
Upon my true and faithful breast. 
There's not a smile has lost its light ! 
There's not a sigh you breathed in vain ! 
For, read their message, Love, aright, 
The Spring will bring its flowers again. 
And I — shall find in your dear eyes 
The love that in them, dreaming, lies ! 

Once more, my own, before we part, 
I clasp your slender hand in mine ! 



THE LAST FORGE T-ME- NO TS. r y 

Once more, I strain you to my heart, 
And kiss your eyes that softly shine ! 
In lonely days these little flowers 
May speak of joys that were our lot, 
Bring back the heaven of those hours 
When you were my " Forget-me-not." 
A deathless love our life shall bless 
Again, in all its tenderness ! 

Pressed to your breast these blossoms keep, 
My love of sweetest summer days ! 
And in the dreams of blessed sleep 
The heart which thrills, and fondly prays 
For you, shall watch ! For you shall wait ! 
And hover where your dear feet stray ! 
Still to your service consecrate 
Shall burn with brighter love, each day, 
For God has joined your soul to mine ; 
So, let them on your bosom shine ! 



s« 



TO DAMON, AN "OLD CADDT." 



Go Damon, an "©lo Gaoet." 

1864-1894— E. O. F— 2d Artillery. 



It shines upon my hand, while far from home 

I'm lingering — 
The quaintly chosen motto, carved upon our old 

class ring — 
" Cor unum — viae diversae " was the chorus sung 

elate, 
When " sixty-four " had shed its chains, in joyous 

sixty-eight ! 

The pendulum of thirty years has swung us far 

apart, 
But yet the clock is running on, and ticks within 

my heart. 
Although my life-blood feebler throbs than when, 

in fighting clothes, 
We stood up in Fort Clinton, and punched our 

bitter foes ! 

I don't forget, dear Damon, how we "boned our 

math," at night, 
That Billy Coombs and I backed you in the big 

"Casey fight." 



TO DAMON, AN " OLD CADET. 1 ' §g 

He held the watch, and I the sponge, while you 

with angry frown 
Stood up through all those weary rounds, and 

made your man " lie down ! " 

The happy days in dear old " D," — the corporal's 

stripes we won, 
The swims in the cool Hudson, alone, when day 

was done, 
Our " wrastle " with the Sanscrit " Var," those 

bareback rides of pain — 
I'd give a world of weary sighs to live those days 

again ! 

That "yearling camp," those dusty drills with 

Piper and with " Dad," 
The singing voice of Lancaster — it always drove 

me mad ! 
And "Lanky" Smith, the sturdy bear who ever 

banged us round — 
Dear " Forrest " Black, who slumbers there, in 

the old burying-ground ! 

The things we learned have vanished, and the 
men who taught them low 

Are lying, on the West Point hill, in the " Pro- 
fessors' Row." 

The lonely stars have glittered down on me for 
thirty years, 

And here your waited letter lies, and brings me 
sudden tears ! 



g Q TO DAMON, AN " OLD CADET." 

For I have never learned, old boy, the Calculus 
of Heart, 

And in my bosom's throbbing there's no Philo- 
sophic art. 

I long have sunk the " Engineer," though the 
" castle " was my pride, 

I would give my faded laurels, now, if you were 
by my side ! 

The songs were sung in summer camp, " Lore- 
na's " southern wail — - 

When Treason's guns came booming North, 
upon the summer gale — 

" In the skies the bright stars glittered," " Float- 
ing down the Tennessee," 

In Pompey Olmstead's mellow voice — It all comes 
back to me ! 

I think I see the bayonet's flash, as when in one 

grand line 
We swept along that grassy plain, your shoulder 

next to mine, 
As Grant " reviewed the Corps," when Lee laid 

down the Southern sword, 
When in our " Alma Mater," loud the guns of 

Victory roared ! 

I know the words which falter on my lips will 

bring again 
Those shadowy faces smiling sweetly, Damon, on 

us then. 



TO DA MON, AN " OLD CA DET." fa 

But all our paths divided strange at " Benny 

Havens, Oh ! " 
And one remembered sunny head, has long been 

lying low ! 

I feel again the pain which wrung my soul as we 
both heard 

The Adjutant, whose voice rang out the long- 
expected word, 

'* First Class, Fall out ! " the last class line, the 
music, " Home Sweet Home" — 

Then forth we went, on different paths, the 
world's strange ways to roam ! 

There's not a land that man can tread beneath 

the sweeping sun 
Our wandering feet have not roamed o'er — our 

quest is never done ! 
Yet tossed afar by breakers wild, upon Life's 

angry sea, 
I bless the wave which swings you near, and 

brings you back to me ! 

Before me, as I scan your lines, the desert 

stretehes drear, 
Its thousand miles of horrors, the lurking red 

fiends near, 
The long three months we marched forgot, the 

mutiny, the days 
When Arizona was a hell, beneath the sun's 

fierce rays ! 



£ 2 TO DAMON, AN " OLD CADET." 

So hail ! with every heart-throb that friendship's 
name endears, 

Dear Damon, loved for all the drift of thirty 
sundered years ! 

There's sunshine glowing in my soul ! My heart 
is beating fast ! 

I brim the cup we quaffed once, to " The Mem- 
ory of the past ! " 



do swidanya:' 63 



"S)o 5wioan£a." 

Under the wreaths of welcome — green once, but 
golden now — 

You stand, my heart's own darling, with fair 
uplifted brow ; 

The wind which stirs the forest moans its sum- 
mons to depart, 

So bend your dear eyes once on me, while 
clasped unto my heart. 

Here, on the portal where you waited, with love's 

kindled eye, 
Your faltering footstep lingers, and fears my last 

"Good-Bye." 
I kiss the trembling lips I love, in silence ! 

Speech is vain — 
For every throb of your true heart now bids me 

" Come Again ! " 

Nay ! Do not speak, Beloved ! Fate's decree 

can harm us not ! 
Our souls have mingled in the thrills which 

hallowed that dear spot. 



64 " DO SWIDA NYA ." 

Our tryst among the Saxon hills, the dancing 

river there, 
And sprinkled far — forget-me-nots — upon the 

uplands fair. 

Again, Beloved, in my soul those sparkling love 

stars shine, 
We watched upon the swift blue Elbe — they — 

led us to the Rhine ! 
We wandered 'neath their mellow light, in sweet 

Volhynian shades, 
They twinkle in this autumn night, their splendor 

never fades ! 

We cannot lose the golden past ! I never care 

to seek 
The summer rose which blessed us then ! It 

blushes on your cheek ! 
The wooing winds which lulled to rest upon your 

breast of snow 
Are singing still within my heart, in murmurs 

sweet and low. 

The hours which passed with flying feet, and 

marked the happy round 
Of all the heaven which we shall know, shall be 

eternal found ; 
The deathless spark which flashed its light, the 

aureole of Love — 
Will linger round your fair, dear head until we 

meet above ! 



" DO SWIDANYA." 65 

For proof against the tyrant's will, or fortune's 
rolling wheel, 

My kisses give again the love your bosom's sighs 
reveal, 

For we are one, eternal sealed ! This is no part- 
ing day ! 

I hold you prisoned in my heart, so both will go 
away ! 

And as my heart is chained to yours, though I 

stray to the west, 
We cannot part, Beloved, — for it beats within 

your breast ! 
Lift up your eyes, and let your arms close round 

me, sweetest one, 
As in that hour you pledged your love, before 

the dying sun ! 

It is that sun which lights me — though my soul 

does not depart — 
The sun of Love which burns upon the altars of 

my heart ! 
"You are my own forever," this I whisper ere I 

go! 
But wait to hear your murmur back, «« I always 

loved you so ! " 

We reaped the golden harvest, waiting all these 

weary years ! 
Our garnered grain is safe ! Our love is proof 

against all fears ! 
5 



66 " DO SIVIDA NYA ." 

Then, " Do swidanya ! " Smiling eyes take up 
the dear refrain, 

And flash their tender signals back — "Good- 
Bye, but, — Come Again ! " 



HIS LETTERS. 



67 



f)te Xetters. 



She sat beside the dying fire, 

A loving woman fair, 

And watched the letters from her hand 

Crisp into ashes there ! 

Ah ! Every light flame flashing out 
From those fond words of love, 
Brought tears into her gentle eyes 
As she leaned there above ! 

T'was in the silence of the night ! 
The city round her dreamed — 
His whispered words her pulses thrilled, 
The grave of Love it seemed ! 

Those tender words, when hastening far 
He sued her heart to win — 
His last fond pledge of life-long truth 
She kissed, yet — threw it in ! 

With shining eyes her bosom's sighs 
Breathed a fond requiem there, 
For all those vanished hours of bliss, 
And, then — she knelt in prayer ! 



68 HIS LETTERS. 

There, in that lonely room, his face 
Still lingered in her heart, 
And distance could not keep that hour 
Their loved-sealed souled souls apart ! 

She breathed a prayer for him that night 
Whose faithful heart afar 
Was haunted by her pictured face 
Beneath the lover's star ! 

He kissed that face of wondrous grace 
As, at his darling's feet, 
Life's ashes lay ! She turned away 
In dreams again to meet ! 

Her sweet brown eyes brought back the hour 
When first, upon his breast, 
Her graceful head came fluttering down 
In Love's eternal rest ! 

For, heart to heart, Love's spirit held 
Their souls that lonely night. 
"God Bless You, Darling ! " echoed low 
And both their hearts were light ! 



IN THE WOODS. 



69 



1fn tbe TKHooOs. 



Here, once, with me, my darling strayed 
Down these dim forest aisles ; 

I list to-day her foot-tall light ; 
Again, love-thrilled, she smiles. 

'Tis true, I am alone, yet from 
The viewless world wherein she hides 
Her gracious spirit lingers with me — 
A blessing which abides ! 

Dear unforgotten face beloved, 

With softly shining eyes, 
The rustling leaves are murmuring low 

Of our lost Paradise ! 

Ah ! God ! In yon far sunset skies 

I see a golden glow, 
Which hides beyond the world's confines 

That love of long ago ! 

'Tis deathless ! For her spirit shines 
Down from the trembling stars, 

And, heart to heart, the pulse of love 
Beats past their mortal bars ! 



7 o 



IN THE WOODS. 



So, with my steadfast heart still true, 
My longing soul here waits ! 

My footsteps threading these dear paths 
Her memory consecrates ! 



AFTER MANY YEARS. 



7* 



Bfter dftatiE feat's. 



Tis fourteen years, yet all comes back ! I think 

I see to-day 
The lazy porpoises again in blue San Pedro 

Bay ! 

The jutting crags hung o'er the ocean's rim of 

misty blue ; 
And on the golden hills I sat, and watched that 

scene with you ! 

Deep-freighted ships that slowly left the smiling 

Golden Land — 
The flitting fisher-boats which skimmed along the 

silver strand — 

The valley smiled below us green, the bright 

skies domed above — 
And there, my friend, we talked of life — of all 

our dreams, — of Love. 

The fresh salt breeze sang round us there, our 

thoughts far onward ran, 
To where the sparkling ocean hides the islands 

of Japan ! 



7 2 



AFTER MANY YEARS, 



And here, in Russian forests lone, my soul strays 

back to-day — 
To meet you, friend, still heart to heart, by fair 

San Pedro Bay ! 

What matters it, if Fortune poured for you its 

shining store ? 
There have been kisses in our cup ! We dream 

those dreams no more. 

I've had my share of all that comes ere silver 

streaks the brow, 
And yet, with all that Life has brought, the old 

days haunt me now ! 

I'm lingering over hopes that filled each ardent 

youthful brain ; 
I hunger for your clasping hands ! Those days 

come back again ! 

And fourteen years have flitted by ! Still smiles 

the azure sea, 
Where Memory builds its fairy bridge to bring 

you back to me ! 

That bosom stirred with passion's touch ! The 
promise of your eyes ! 

And, softer than the summer wind, your mur- 
muring replies ! 

The dashing waves unmastered, fling their white- 
ness on the sea, 

And, on their breeze, your old-time thrall is cast 
again on me ! 



AFTER MANY YEARS. 73 

All hail beyond your mountains far ! The dim 

Sierras there 
Still raise their silvered heads aloft, in depths of 

bluest air ! 

Their murmuring pines, the stars that shine, are 

calling me to-day 
Back where we kissed and parted, once, by lone 

San Pedro Bay ! 



74 



WOMAN. 



TICloman. 



All that's best and sweetest lies 
Hidden deep in woman's eyes ! 
All that's truest, gleaned apart 
Lingers in the woman heart ! 
Every blessing from great Jove 
Thrills within her pulse of Love ! 
Throughout Life, for good or ill 
Woman, woman, rules us still ! 
Double happiness she gives 
When her better nature lives ! 
Conqueror '. There's but one rest ! 
Pillowed on your loving breast ! 



FROM HER GLASS. 



75 



ffrom fbcv ©lass. 



Bring me the cup she kissed ! 

Fill of the very same 
Rich-hearted grape, and, let me breathe 

Deep, — in my heart, — her name ! 

Now ! while the bubble softly breaks 

On the dainty crystal rim ! 
While yet her voice my spirit wakes, 

While still my eyes are dim ! 

Up every glass ! Her health ! 

Queen of this hour of mirth ! 
Hail to the one I love ! — 

The sweetest girl on earth ! 

Round her Love's mantle clinging ! 

Flowers at my darling's feet ! — 
Fresh joys each bright hour bringing ! 

Hail, — and God bless you, Sweet ! 



76 TO LA GRANDE DUCHESSE1 



Go Ua (Sranoe Bucbesse! 



I drink the loving and the loved ! 

A Queen ! No foreign ruler ! Mine ! — 
I serve the one whose rosebud lips 

Are richer than this wine ! 

Unto her sparkling eyes I drink ! 

Each thread of silken golden hair ! 
And to the sea-shell's glowing tint, 

Which dyes her cheek so fair ! 

I hide her name within my heart ! 

Would that my song might grow divine ! 
The grape's rich heart, when pressed for her, 

Is thrilling now, with blood of mine ! 

The promise of her love-lit eyes ! 

Her passion-haunted breast of snows ! 
The witching glance which tells to me 

Her secret, whispered to the rose ! 



THE LADY OF NIMOVITCH. j» 



Gbe Xaos of Wtmovftcb. 



She moves among her garden walks, my eyes her 

footsteps note 
And dreams beside the silent lake, of other days 

remote. 
She draws my heart in golden chains, a dainty, 

sweetest witch. 
" Forget-me-nots," her bosom bears, to-day, at 

Nimovitch. 

My pulses bound to greet her step, with joy my 
heart is stirred, 

For happy Love is thrilling now in each endear- 
ing word. 

There's all that makes this lovely earth, with 
Love's sweet treasures rich 

To bless the day she came, in grace, to rule at 
Nimovitch ! 

The fleeting years her form endures, new graces 

linger near 
The loving one whom every day I hold more 

fondly dear. 



yg THE LADY' OF NI MOV ITCH. 

There are no words to paint a love, which mocks 

at simple speech, 
For heart and soul, lie at your feet, Beloved — at 

Nimovitch ! 



THE PARTING. *g 



Bt parting, 



The sad hour brings at last, the time of trial, 

For, it is time to part ! 
And grim browed Fate brooks no denial, 

These words are from my heart ! 

Do you remember, Love of mine, you came first 

To me, in time of snows, — 
And now, while my heart throbs in rapture, 

You are my winter rose ! 

You come and go, but your dear face will linger 

Within my heart's locked cell, 
Your name is carved there by Love's finger, 

You cannot read " Farewell ! " 

No ! Darling ! For the lonely room you leave 
me 
Will whisper still of you ! 
•'God bless you, my own Darling ! " does not 
grieve me, 
From your dear voice so true. 

For you are mine, — in dreams I hold you ever, 
Locked up within my heart ! 



8o 



THE PARTING. 



And, there's no doom our joined lives can sever, 
Nor tear our souls apart ! 

I linger in delicious pain, in wonder, 

To see your face anew, — 
As when I first your magic spell came under 

And, woke, to love of you ! 

I thought it was an angel, softly stealing 

On me, with tender eyes, 
But, dearest one, my soul beguiling 

You made life Paradise ! 

For every heart-throb, every pledge so tender, 

My soul waits at your feet ! 
And all my life is yours, — to always render 

Your happiness complete ! 

So ! On your breast, your dear eyes sweetly 
shining, 

I seal the love you know, 
And, Hope, with rosy finger, all repining 

Forbids ! Love ! as you go. — 



TO A PRIMA-DONNA. % x 



Go a iprima*2)onna. 



JUST lean back ! Shut your eyes one moment ! 
Let your warm heart throb on, and beat ; 
As if I were the first man, Diva ! — 
You, the first woman ! Sweet ! 

Oh ! what a royal empire of old 
If we knew all, — and lived then ! 
Humanity crowned, you, genius starred — 
To begin all, — once again ! 

Drift out of your world a moment ! 
Down, down Life's tide with me ! 
Think of a man who is honest and true ! 
A woman noble and free ! 

Look out from your soul's bright windows, 
And see things as they are ! 
And never gaze back on that dizzy track 
You climbed, — to be a star ! 

I'll not speak of myself ; what am I ? 
A flash in the evening dark ! — 
A bubble tossed on the waves of Life, 
A glint of a flying spark ! 
6 



g 2 TO A FRIMA-DONNA. 

But you, Madonna, a star that shines, — 
A queen of your hard-won art ; 
And, over your head, the mystic crown 
Of Genius ! you walk apart ! 

Join hands, my comrade, across the gulf 
Of the warring natures we hold, — 
And drop out of all the base fetich, 
The woman-chase of old ! 

Still on your way go singing clear, 

Your eye on the zenith high, — 

Still, in your breast, the warm woman heart, 

Beating in harmony ! 

Brave as the boldest ! True to yourself ! 
And, with every high-souled note, 
Strike on the ringing Harp of Fame, 
To the future, dim, remote ! 

Live for yourself! Drink of Life's cup ! 
Kiss the bubble on the brim ! — 
And keep but a single throb for me, — 
While we both are in the swim ! 

Drop out the false ! For, beneath the garb 
Of a world of conventional lies, 
The great inviolate human heart 
Rules, hidden from mortal eyes. 

Be bold ! be brave ! be free ! Madonna ! — 
Be a woman, and, yet, be strong ! 
With a woman's charms, and a loving heart 
Still sing as you drift along ! 



TO A PRIMA-DONNA. g. 

Fight the battle of Life as you find it ! 
Your woman's weapons at hand ; — 
Be queen of yourself! — your life will be 
One anthem of music grand ! 



8 4 



UNDER THE RED LIGHT. 



TflnDer tbe IRefc %iQbU 



The weary hours creep on ! Without, 

A wild storm crashes on the pane. 

I sit alone and dream, my own, 

Of hours that may not come again ! 

My faithful heart, "So Happy ! " wanders 

Out into the wild black night, 

To hover near you, where you dream 

Afar, below the one red light ! 

No matter where that taper gleams, 
Its softened radiance only shows, — 
The pearl of all the world to me, 
Bright-hearted sister of the rose ! 
May God be with you, every hour, 
Though distance veils you from my sight, 
My heart is throbbing, in a prayer, 
For you, beneath that rosy light ! 

I know how tenderly its glance 
Upon your sleeping face now gleams. 
There, may the gods and fairies aid, 
I wander with you in your dreams ; 



85 



UNDER THE RED LIGHT. 

Each heart-throb echoes, every breath, 
My soul goes back, in love, to-night, — 
And, lingers, rapt, where softly sleeps 
My Dearest, under that red light ! 

True woman heart ! Its rise and fall 
Beneath your bosom's moulded snows, 
But marks the current of my love 
Which round you ever ebbs and flows. 
For, Love is all in all, and proof 
'Gainst Distance, Sorrow. There's no might 
Of King, no Fates can tear my soul, 
From your rose-aureole of light ! 

Ah ! Whisper ! Angels bright and fair, 
The love which watches, longs and waits, 
To my own darling, dreaming there, 
Of cloudless days, of kindest fates. 
Those parted lips, in murmurs fond, 
Their greetings faltered, on this night, 
When, far away, you thought of me, 
And blessed me 'neath that soft red light ! 



36 TO THE "NAMELESS," WITH A BOOK. 



Go tbe " IRameless," witb a JBooft. 



For you — whose dear face, though afar, 
Still, in my heart's locked casket shines, 
Beneath our own beloved star ; 
You smile — and — read between the lines ! 

The kindling thoughts your love gave birth, 
Are here, in feeble words, expressed, 
Forget them, Darling ! Only share 
The memories thrilling in my breast ! 

Your love-lit eyes, the hand that waved 
A parting to my burdened soul ; 
Our commune in those forest aisles, 
The dreamy peace which round us stole ! 

The singing voice which waked, at last 
A heart, that long had vainly wept, 
That evening, by the world forgot, 
While, far below, the river slept ! 

Again, your face in tenderest love 
Upon me, unforgotten, beams ! 
Your light foot breaks, in ecstasy, 
The mocking rapture of my dreams ! 



TO THE "NAMELESS," WITH A BOOK. 

If there be secret, here entwined, 
The one inwoven thread of gold ; 
Under the rose, upon your breast, 
Unto your heart, its message fold ! 

So happy ! There, it lightly lies 
Soft pillowed in your snowy breast 
Where my song falters ; close your eyes, 
'Till memory tells you all the rest ! 

Ah ! Near or far ! I hold you fast, 
Deep prisoned in a faithful heart. 
Beneath your own red light, pray read, 
" Beloved, worshipped," — as thou art ! 



87 



88 



OPEN SESAME. 



©pen Sesame. 



What was it broke the spell, dearest ? 

You ask of my heart, to-day. 
What from the tomb of the sleeping years, 

Rolled the gray stone away ? 

Was it the brooding promise 

Hid in your tender eyes, — 
When, down the leafy path, you led 

The way to Paradise ? 

Was it the smile on lips that clung, 

So love-thrilled to my own ? 
Was it that one word whispered, "Come," 

That rolled away the stone ? 

Love's flame leaping through bounding pulses, 
When your dear hand met mine ! 

Ah ! who shall tell what, from the rock, 
Flashed out the spark divine ! 

Was it the clasping arms which drew 

You, home, to a loving breast ? 
Was it the glance that met mine, 

When the Sun-god sank to rest ? 



OPEN SESAME. 



No ! For the Conqueror, in her heart, 
Knows a sweeter secret, a better 

Charm that broke the seals of years, 
Hid in that shy, sweet letter ! 

Take it and read it. Open Sesame ! 

Only her true heart knows — 
Where it lay hidden,— that magic word, 

Only herself, — and the rose ! 

Only the rose which nestles there, 

Close to my darling's breast, 
Knows of the charm the Conqueror wrought, 

A watch-word, — the tenderest ! 



8o 



qQ TO A WA YWA RD GODDESS. 



Ho a Wa^waro (Soooess. 



Ah ! Let some other foot linger, — turn off, 

And take the branching path ! 
Let some cold stranger's eye harden, — 

In selfish wrath ! 
Think of the love which round you clings, 

And, all endures. 
Let other lips speak all the bitterest things, 

Darling, — not yours ! 

Yes ! Let the callous worldling heart 

In pride and anger beat : 
But, think of all, the love of years has 

Laid at your feet ! 
The hours when heart beat close to heart, — 

One kindly thought insures ! 
Let others' scorn drift souls apart, — 

Dearest ! Not yours ! 

So ! In your quick estrangement, 

The hour of wounded pride : 
Let Love's still gentle hand, the tangling meshes, 

Quick draw aside ! 



-CO A W A YWARD GODDESS. 

Look in my faithful heart, which beats for you ! 

Where love allures! 
You back to see one face, still throned,— 

Darling ! Tis yours ! 



q 2 HER A ME RICA N MAJES TV'S VISIT. 



loci American flfcajestE's lihsit. 



Here I am sitting alone to-night, — 

Her picture is facing me now ; 
There's a thrill in her shining eyes, 

I can almost bring back her bow 
Of mocking entreaty, " Her American Majesty, 

Just as she curtsied then, 
At that very door, and faltered, 

; May I visit your favorite den ? " 

There, on that crimson velvet chair, — 

" Her Majesty " found a throne. 
Queen of all hearts, she did not forget 

To carry by storm, my own ! 
A vision of laughing life and love, 

Set in the sombre scene 
Of my daily life, in Penworld, — 

Where so many dark hours have been ! 

Over the curious litter, 

Which we men of the " Shadowland M love, — 
Her dainty fingers wandered, 

While searching for treasure trove. 



HER AMERICAN MAJESTY'S VISIT. 93 

In every nook and corner, 

She fathomed my strange retreat, 
Affecting the utmost unconcern, 

While, my heart, lay under her feet ! 

Ah ! But that wise little woman 

" Her American Majesty," knows 
I worship her very shadow ! 

Yet, that secret is " Under the Rose !" 
How these unforgotten moments 

Too brief flitted happily by ! 
And she paused near the threshold, and, fixed 
me, 

With the glance of a love-lit eye ! 

" I'm going ! " she whispered ! The rest 

By mortal was never heard : 
For, clasped in my arms, she stood there, 

And never uttered a word ! 
I found a few violets, — there, — on my desk, 

A holly sprig, — I know to-day, — 
Only this, that her visit has turned my head, — 

And, — she carried my heart away ! 

Yes ! That's her picture ! The very one ! 

" Her American Majesty,"— there ! 
«« How did I get it ? " It was an exchange, — 

And, — Cupid would call it fair ! 
" My heart is with you ! " she pencilled, — 

" I left it in your old den S " 
And, — I wait "Her American Majesty" 

To come back, and — get it again ! 



94 



BEFORE THE KAISER." 



JBeforc tbe •Raiser. 



Before the Kaiser, Elsa stands 
With softly dreaming eyes ; 
High soars her prisoned angel voice, 
While wildest plaudits rise ! 

She shares the laurels drifted down 
On Hohenzollern's brows — 
His gift by birth, by genius hers, 
Fair daughter of the snows ! 

Before them all, Columbia's child \ 
Queen by divinest right, 
With crown of beauty's native dower, 
Hailed Empress of the night ! 

'Twas graceful that the monarch owned 
The sway her art imparts, 
He lord of the Germanic sword— 
But she, a " queen of Hearts." 

When battle's smoke has drifted far, 
The soldier lonely sleeps, 
Her name will shine in Art's bright page 
Which green her memory keeps ! 



" BEFORE THE KAISER." 95 

Fair country-woman ! Nature blessed ! 
As her song dies away, 
Here in our bosom's shaken thrones 
The woman-heart holds sway ! 

Sing on ! Bright star ! shine out for all ! 
With Art's enkindled light ! 
Those graceful laurels truly won, 
Dear Empress of the night ! 



96 



WAITING. 



Maitinfi ! 



Beside the fire My lady stands, 

Her dainty eyes in thought downcast — 

The jewels on her blue-veined hands 
Flash memories of a storied past. 

The room is stilled, soft shadows steal 
From purpling hills down to the sea — 

Hard by the mantel's garnered wealth 
My Lady keeps her tryst with me ! 

Around her, spoils of all the earth 
And pictured faces, glowing, bring 

All forms of beauty to her there, 
Sweet Hebe of Life's rosy spring ! 

Upon the stair, I linger rapt — 
The living picture works its spell ! 

Her bright young brows, the Dian form, 
The tender eyes, I love so well ! 

Her beauty makes the room a shrine ! 

Dear priestess of the fading light ! 
But, mark — she bends her eyes on me ! 

Love ! Do I read their message right ? 



WAITING. gy 

The world may run its course in vain— 
I linger ! Never more to part ! 

But kiss those carven lips again 
As Hebe's welcome thrills my heart ' 
7 



9 8 



A DREAM. 



B Dream, 



Yes, 'tis the room, and I mark the spot 

Where her little arched feet rested. 
There in the shadowed corner lay 

Her dear head — golden-crested. — 
The priests all lie ! These days gone by 

Have witchcraft's magic power, 
And my wild heart's beat, and my wandering feet 

Will bring her back this hour ! 

She has left me long ! She will come again 

With her sapphire eyes of blue ; 
And whisper, with white arms 'round my neck, 

" I love you ! Only you ! " 
There are snapping cords in my heart of 
hearts, — 

I know her step full well ; 
She swore she would come to me once again ! 

But, this waiting hour is hell ! 

Hark, soft at the drifted leaf's light fall — 

Her foot is on the stair ! 
She comes once more ! That bright-eyed girl ! 

She is surely standing there ! 



A DREAM. 

And, I know the bloom upon her cheek 
The gold threads of her hair, 

Her smiling lips, her graceful form, 
Her light step on the stair. 

Cold ! And the room is dreary ! 

No stir in the silent hall, 
And yet I know that she stood there ! 

I wonder if, after all, 
There is a world beyond the tide, 

Where she will wait for me ; 
Where heart to heart we will never part, 

But will dream in ecstasy ? 



99 



IOO 



YO ME RECUERDO: 



" Uo me IRecuevfco." 

(From the Spanish.) 



Yon star which far above me gleams, 

But speaks, my own, of thee ! 

The night winds whispering soft and low 

In murmured melody ; 

The thrill which my fond bosom owns — 

Beloved as thou art — , 

Is life-blood pulsing true to thee 

Within my faithful heart. 

Come to the arms which wait for thee ! 

May thy dear head soon rest, 

In dreamless slumber, still beloved, 

Upon this lonely breast ! 

The hour we loved, that star we v/atched, 

The breezes sighing low, 

Bring back our love, eternal sworn, 

The bliss we only know. 



TO A LADY'S PICTURE. 



IOI 



Go a XaoE's picture. 



Beside the smiling group of three 
Who reign upon my chamber wall, 

One friendly face beams down on me, 
One, treasured, kept by me from all, 

I've idly scattered in pleasure's race — 

Alone, I've kept your face ! 

In years gone by I've sadly learned 
How thin the gilding sometime grows, 

Seen fading oft, quick friendship's glow, 
And marked a canker on the rose 

To which I've given the proudest place !- 

Still I will keep your face. 

Bright stars of beauty rise and pass 
And Venus burns not every night, 

And cracked is often Fancy's glass. 

But one star shines unchanging bright. 

The Pole star holds the world in place, 

And I will keep your face. 

A steady star lift up to shine 

And show the way o'er land and sea ; 
And when your glance is bent on mine 

I think and feel I almost see 



IQ2 TO A LADY'S PICTURE. 

My own dear love these lonely days, 
And so I keep your face. 

Bright links of friendship forged by you 
Bind three in firm uniting chain ; 

And every glance seems to renew 
Our hopes of meeting once again 

Around your fireside, happy place. 

I fondly keep your face. 

For days glide by, dear friend, to show 
You true and rich as tested gold. 

In years to come, as long ago, 

My heart's best shrine shall ever hold. 

Next to its queen an altar high 

Where no unworthy rival by, 
I'll worship one dear face. 



THA T DARLING GIRL, IO -i 



Gbat Barling (5irl. 



ACROSS the world's commotion, — 

Its maddening whirl, 
A waif upon Life's ocean, 

I see that darling girl ! 
Her Dian form, her wistful eyes, — 

With looks of melting love, 
Which mirrored, in this world below, 

The sparkling heavens above. 

Chill clouded years have burdened eyes 

Which long have vainly wept. 
The sweet lost love, I dreamed of, — 

In the years my spirit slept. — 
And, yet, — across that weary waste, — 

And pangs which rend my heart, 
That girl, within my bosom's core, 

Has her own throne apart ! 

For, still above the skies of Fate, 
Though mist and mirk may whirl, 

I cherish in my loyal soul, 
That loved and darling girl ! 



1 04 THA T DA RLING GIRL . 

She may be naught to all besides, 

But, all in all me : — 
Across the wasted years I mourn, 

That girl is all I see ! 



GOOD NIGHT, 10 $ 



<5oofc IFUgbt. 



Slow fades along the level sea 

The shimmer of the failing light, 
Dark shadows gather — warning sails 

Sink in the wave, far specks of white. 
Upon the mountain, lingers yet 

In glowing tints, the sunset rare, 
The forest fringing yon dark crag 

Is whispering, in wild music, there. 

Soft silence wraps the sleeping world, 

A brooding silence strangely sweet. 
Along the shore, the breakers roar, 

But die in wavelets at my feet. 
One star peeps out, a herald star, — 

Till all the heavens in brightness glow. 
Far light-houses, for weary souls, — 

Their twinkling flashes come and go. 

These silvered pages of Heaven's court 
Precede the peerless queen of night, 

Who moulds yon distant purpled hills 
In lines of living argent light. 



6 GOOD NIGHT. 

Ah ! Brighter than the crescent moon, 
And lovelier than the throbbing sea, — 

A vision floats before my eyes, 

And brings her face once more to me ! 

I fain would know, if at this hour, 

She strays her garden haunts among, 
And dreams of hours we've blessed like this, 

The words we faltered, songs we sung, 
Her wistful brown eyes glancing far 

Down future happy years to be, 
Grow tenderer, still, — Beloved Eyes, — 

Their lone watch keeping still — for me ! 



A T SEA . 



107 



2lt Sea. 



I watched the gray and lonely waste 
Of ocean, drift unheeded by ; 
The distant glowing sunset flamed ; 
I gazed — -but with a lover's eye ! 

Sad was the burden of the dirge — 

The mocking distich of the sea ; — 

As angry surges sweep me on 

They sang, " we hide her, far from thee ! " 



io8 



A FTER MA NY DA YS I '■ 



"Bfter /IftanE Da^e!" 

At Scltandau — hi Boficmia. 



We climbed the purpled mountains, your slender 

hand in mine, 
And saw beyond the Elbe blue the golden sun 

decline ; 
Behind grim-crested Konigstein, he sought the 

western skies, 
And Love walked with us, darling, hid in your 

dreaming eyes ! 

It was in far Bohemia, our erring feet had 

strayed ; 
The cares of Life had fallen away, and you were 

not afraid 
To face the gathering clouds of night, when that 

sun sank to rest ; 
For Love was holding royal court within your 

happy breast ! 

Away with fears, away with tears ! Nor time 

nor tide can blight 
The love that kindled in our hearts, upon that 

happy night. 



" A FTER MA NY DAYS ! » l q q 

A bird was singing to his mate, hid in the blos- 
somed tree ; 

My heart awoke, beloved, as you turned your 
eyes to me ! 

Oh ! Speechless joy ! the world forgot, your secret 

then confessed, 
With laughing eyes and low replies, your head 

upon my breast ! 
The winding Elbe below us shone ! All nature 

seemed to smile, 
When Life's book was unrolled, for lo ! you 

loved me all the while ! 

By strangest paths, in parted years, stern fate 

had led our feet 
Around the world, a weary road, in love at last 

to meet. 
But on this fairy night I knew your faithful heart 

was mine, 
And clasped unto my throbbing heart, the Queen 

of Konigstein ! 

For so, in frolic sport, you chose a title for that 

hour 
When, hearts aflame, we lingered till the night 

began to lower ; 
Then, hand in hand, we wandered back — for 

parting there was not — 
We met in dear Bohemia, where sorrow is 

forgot ! 



no 



AD ASTRA NORDIC A. 



BD Bstra WorDica. 



A star — a star that shines 

Upon the sea at rest ; 
A star that gleams in fire 

Upon her snowy breast ! 

A star which decks the brave, 
In battle's dangers won ; 

A star that loves to linger 
Near to the dying sun ! 

A flow'ret star that breathes 
Its incense in the wood ! 

The morning star which sang 
The coming of the Good ! 

These stars be dear, but loved 
The most the star that sings : — . 

The evening star — the lover's star 
Close to my bosom clings ! 

Shine on, dear star ! Still sing 
A world to sweetest rest ! 

A note of joy ! a song of Spring ! 
Then, linger on my breast ! 



UNDER HER SPELL. 



Ill 



Tfln&er bet Spell. 

In the Berlin Museum. 
The head of Erynys of Pergamus. 



Stay ! Warder ! Hold off your hand ! 
Wait there — wait at the door ! 
And leave me here, in the shadows — 
I must see her face once more ! 

All that is left of the sculptor's dream. 
Only a woman's head. 

Erynys ! There ! with the dreaming face ! 
The queen of the deathless dead ! 

I knew her ! I know her ! My soul is her slave 
P'or, ages — long ages ago 
I have bent, in her maddening worship, 
Where the palm-trees nod and glow. 

You smile ! I rave ! 'Tis the goddess 
Of men's hearts, — the witch of their lives ! 
Still, on those proud imperial lips, 
For speech, her weird nature strives ! 

In Pergamus, — by the Euxine, — 
She waked, — with her marble heart. 



112 UNDER HER SPELL. 

That cruel crescent-browed goddess, — 
And, Fate holds us still apart ! 

You smile ! Ah ! I know her too well ! 
She has cursed my life for long years ; 
And the conquering glance of those stony eyes 
Has swept my dark soul with tears ! 

Cold and cruel, false as Faustine, 
Or Burgundy's Marguerite, 
She poisons the lover's hot kisses, — 
This demon of glances sweet ! 

The Conqueror ! Only a face ! 
Yet, I writhe again — for the dart 
Of an old, lost love has riven again 
The depths of a sorrowing heart ! 

You laugh ! A mere sculptor's fancy ! 
And — the earthquake shock threw down 
The marble fanes and palaces, 
Of the grand old Grecian town ! 

Only her head ! She stands in the gloom 
That woman, without a heart I 
And I worship you, demon of stone, — 
Fair mocking devil thou art ! 

But, how came you here, in stone, — 
Ah ! Soulless beauty, I know. 
For, you live in the world to curse me 
With the spell of long ago ! 



UNDER HER SPELL. \ 

Ah ! Now I remember ! Tis she ! 
Eryny's frail child — of her own, — 
You angel-faced devil I met in the flesh, 
With a missing heart of stone .' 

Here ! Warder ! This gold is yours 
For the shadows have veiled her cold eyes ! 
The hell of Love's mockery vanishes now, — 
My curse on her memory lies ! 

Take, take me away ! Some kind word 
Of the Fates may release me ! So ! 
I bend and avoid her unpitying glance, 
And, — shuddering, onward go ! 
8 



j j m OFF CHA RLES TON. 



©ft Cbarleston. 



LONG drags the watch and still the night, 

Slow rocking on the tide, 
The oak-ribbed battle-ships moored near, 

But faintly are descried. 
This happy hour, a single ray 

Of joy the vigil cheers, 
Hark ! Stealing o'er the tropic waves 

The songs of other years ! 

Far from the leaguered hostile port, 

Again I seem to roam. 
My longing heart still fondly turns 

Back to my northern home. 
In vain, I strive to mark my watch, 

To dry the misty tears, 
While float across the heaving waves 

These songs of other years ! 

Bright thoughts of unforgotten days 
Are wakened, — happier hours 

I've known return, while miseries 
Forget these blighting powers 



OFF CHA RLESTON. llt < 

Blest be this chance — the happy chance 

That this lone hour endears : 
When evening breezes murmur low 

The songs of olden years ! 



Tl6 



IL BALEN. 



II JSalen. 



Faintly through the evening stealing, 
Bringing thoughts of you, appealing 
To the tenderest memories, locked within an ever- 
faithful breast, 
Ah ! How magical their chiming, 
With my heart-throbs sweetly rhyming, 
Sounds that thrilled my soul ecstatic, when the 
keys your fingers pressed. 

Oft I've caught their soft intoning — 
When the ocean billows moaning, 
Told of weary leagues, my darling, 
That our loving hearts divide : 
Fancy, taking up the measure, 
Of each song I e'er shall treasure, 
Melodies that held me spell-bound in those old 
days at your side. 



GOOD-BYE. T[7 



<5ooD*JS^e. 



" Good-Bye ! " I vainly from my heart 
Your pictured image would efface ! 
For, on my bosom's highest throne, 
My Darling holds the royal place. 
Good-Bye ! I cannot falter now, 
For, though by doubt and sadness torn, 
We never yet have parted, cold, 
But, blissful meeting came with morn ! 

Like stars in skies, your shining eyes, — 

Have beamed on me for many a year, 

Heart close to heart. Beloved, still 

I feel your tender presence near. 

Be mine yet, though the gathering storm, 

In angry clouds may darkly lower, 

I clasp you in my loving arms, 

To shield you, — Dearest, — evermore ! 

Come ! For the star we love, on high, 
His sparkling nightly signal swings, 
Each blissful moment gliding by, 
When Love, to me, your dear face brings. 



Xl g GOOD-BYE. 

Here, on this breast, your rest shall be, 
Your lips their promise shall renew : 
Sweet listening roses ! Hear my vow ! 
Good-Bye ! My own ! I love but you ! 



HER SOLDIER. 



II 9 



■fcer SolMer, 



She loved him more than ever maid 
Who, clasping lover to her breast, 
Breathed sigh for sigh, — with love-lit eye, 
With faltered vows — the tenderest ! 
She watches where he sleeps to-day, 
Under the old flag's heaven-dyed fold, 
The blue of Heaven o'er him there, 
Lit with the dying sunset's gold ! 

Bright, brave, and sunned in Fortune's smile, 
He held his breast to battle's storm, 
And, in her brooding heart, the while, 
Dwells but that one beloved form ! 
His manly grace, his vanished face, — 
Haunt her lone hours, — his voice still rings 
Upon her listening ear, these dreams, 
Are imperishable things ! 

Ah ! Not in faded, riper years, 
He sought the far and misty shore. 
She lingers, while each heart-beat brings 
Her darling to her side, once more ! 



I2Q HER SOLDIER. 

The sheathed sword, the knightly spurs 
Tell of his earthly battles won. — 
With tenderest heart, she walks apart, — 
Still dreaming of that gallant son ! 



TO HELEN R * * * 12 \ 



Go Ibclen TR * * * 

{Aged sixteen.) 



Upon the stair, you said " Good-Night," 
With smiling lips, you turned to me 
A girlish face of tender grace, — 
A nymph to-day, — a queen to be ! 
Ah me ! I mourn the vanished years, 
The charm of youth that quickly parts. 
But I am past the danger line, — 
Dear little budding Queen of Hearts ! 

The laughing light which fills your eyes 
Will kindle flames in fresher breasts ! 
Still, with a loving benison, 
My hand, upon your fair head, rests ! 
The future stretches bright and fair, 
Beneath your lightly falling feet : 
Love's signal flutters at Life's prow, 
And, — the kissed cup is passing sweet ! 

But you are mine, dear pretty lass ! 
The coming Prince must still forbear, 
To rob me of your charming face, 
Your graceful form upon my stair, — 



TO HELEN R * * * 

For dreams and visions hold you near. 
Is it your blushing face I see ? 
A dream of First Love ! On the stair, 
You kiss your finger-tips — to me ? 

Dear little one ! I wake ! I've had 
My share of hours that quickly fled, 
And I forget ! Your shadowy kiss 
Is but the kiss which wakes the dead ! 
Time's roses still their fragrance hold ! 
Those golden moments quickly ran. 
Ah ! well-a-day ! My race is run ! 
That kiss is for — the coming man ! 



AS SHIPS THAT PASS. 



123 



Bs Sbipa Gbat pass. 



Your soul its fluttering signals showed, 

My Darling ! In those dreaming eyes, 

Whose fringing lashes could not hide 

The depths of Love's sweet Paradise. 

Far from the world you came to me, 

A sea-born vision ! Memory's glass 

Will bring you back, — though swept away, — 

Like ships that pass — like ships that pass ! 

I may not read the blushes sweet, 

Which mantled on your glowing cheek. 

I dare not linger at your side, 

'Twere vain to hope ! 'Twere mad to speak ! 

Gray distance hides you now afar, 

My griefs a love-racked soul harass ! — 

Good-Bye ! Hope's ensign flutters down, 

Like ships that pass ! Like ships that pass ! 

Perhaps some favoring gale of Life, 
On the uncertain heaving sea 
Of Fate, may blow from happier shores, — 
And waft you, Dearest, back to me. 



1 2 4 A S SHIPS THA T PA SS. 

Your head at rest, upon my breast, 
Your eyes, twin guiding stars, — alas ! 
Tis vain to dream ! Their light is lost ! 
Like ships that pass ! Like ships that pass ! 



ALOKK 



125 



Blone. 



That star swings single now on high 
Which gleams upon the lone tree nigh, 
Alone I trust you whispering pine, 
This message from my heart to thine ! 

Beloved One ! My soul's one star ! 
Veiled from mine eyes — where'er you are, 
Alone ! I breathe your name, in love, 
Unto yon star-lamp, there above ! 

Blest be that spot, lost darling mine, 
Where trembling rays upon you shine. 
Alone ! I whisper in my heart, 
" We meet, one day, to never part ! " 

Go ! happy Star, and find my love ! 
Your rays shall thrill her Irom above, 
Alone ! — There's yet one throb divine 
Which quivers from my heart to thine ! 

Down the dark mountain sweeps the wind, 
And leaves me lingering here behind ! 
Alone ! — Ah ! Take these words in fee ! 
My greeting ! Loved and Lost ! To Thee ! 



12 6 OFFSHORE. 



©ft Sbore. 



Around, a dark and starless sea 
Throbs in its wind-swept minor strain, — 
The rising gale sings in the sail, 
In varying tones that ring again ! 

The vault unflecked by silvery star, 
Domes high above ! Ah ! Lost we are ! 
Beyond all thralls of earthly calls, 
The breaking surge, at intervals, — 

Throws phosphor sparks of gold on high ! 
Here, with no lingering cares hard by, 
We drift ! Sweep on ! Oh, happy sea ! 
My Love is nestling near to me ! 

The land we knew is lost to view ! 
There's not one gleaming spark in sight.— 
Our heart-throbs golden moments note, 
As, shadowed in the night we float ! 

Sing on, Wild Winds ! Sing in my heart ! 
Ah, Love ! For never shall we part. 
But sail on Life's o'er shadowed main, 
Till Love shall waft us " Home Again ! ' 



OFFSHORE. I27 



For our love knows nor bounds nor lines, — 

No stretch of Time, nor World's confines, 

The heart which throbs alone for me — 
Is mine, — to all Eternity ! 



£2 g JULIE BEATRICE. 



3ulfe Beatrice. 



I READ no message in your eyes, — 
For, Love still in them, dreaming lies ! 
These happy days, a magic seek 
To bid your eyes their story speak. 

Unspoken words, to thrill the heart 
That waits, in cloudland, yet for thee ! 

That Soul now lingering far apart, 
But, thine, — to all eternity ! 

For Love's sweet domain is now decreed. — 
The fairy Prince, from slumbers freed, 
Is wandering, with longing eyes, — 
To meet yours, in Love's sweet surprise ! 

Julie Beatrice ! Queen ! Somewhere, 
A fairy realm waits ! Love alone 

Will break the waiting charm which binds, 
And, bid you to a golden throne ! 

I know the prison where you wait 
For his touch, at the fairy gate. 
The garden of my heart now holds 
You, till that future sweet unfolds ! 



JULIE BE A TRICE. j 2g 

And forth with him, then, hand in hand, 
You wander to the golden west, — 

Your wakened heart thrilled with Love's Song 
Your wandering feet seek happy rest ! 
9 



1 , TO MOLL.Y. 



Go flfooll£. 



A Bewitching Young A merican Matron at the German Court. 

Robert Burns sang long ago, wi' a sweet 
Scottish lassie in his een. 

" Molly's meek ! Molly's sweet ! 
Molly's modest and discreet. 
Molly's rare, Molly's fair, 
Molly's everything that's neat." 

«« Which I wish to remark — " 

Molly's pretty ! Molly's witty ! 
She's the toast of all the city. 
Molly's form takes by storm. 
Molly can't be mine — a pity ! 

Molly lays the " fremden " out, 
As they gape and stare about. — 
Molly made the Kaiser's eyes, 
Bulge in "Kaiserliche " surprise ! 

Molly is our very best ! 
When she's in her " war-paint " drest, — 
Go and gaze in mute surprise ! 
Venus, — with Minerva's eyes ! 



TO MOLLY. j-j 

For Molly's sake the oath I'd take 
To love her sisters and her brothers ! — 
I'll go jump into the lake ! 
Hang it ! Molly is another's ! 

Just my Luck ! ! ! 



!, 2 STAR OF THE EAST. 



Star of tbe East 



Lean Low ! Sweep low ! Down to the western 

sea, 
Star of the East ! Thou bringest my dearest, 

near to me ! 

Over her darling face pillowed far, thy trembling 

light, 
Has stolen in, at her window, to kiss her my last 

"Good Night ! " 

Over my dearest's sleeping form, thy pale white 

halo glows, 
As moonlight searches the secrets hid, in the 

heart of the dreaming rose ! 

Happy bright star ! That droopeth down to the 

throbbing sea ! 
Bring me the shining message, her eyes gave 

unto thee ! 

Sweetest eyes I've often kissed, under her own 

red light, — 
Their loving message thou tellest me ! «' My 

Dearest One ! Good Night ! " 



STAR OF THE EAST. „ 

Sweep up, once more, from under the world ! oh ! 

faithful star, and tell 
Her I dream, in rapture, of meeting ! Star of the 

East ! Farewell ! 



j- 4 TO THE CONQUEROR. 



Zo tbe Conqueror* 



I want to feel you love me only, 

My conqueror ! So happy now, 

I want to know, when you are lonely, — 

Love's light lingers on your brow. 

A double happiness our treasure, — 

The boon denied to crowned kings. 

I want Love's cup filled beyond measure 

When your dear hand the chalice brings. 

I want no other form beside me, 
No eyes to speak to mine, but yours, — 
If Fortune all else has denied me, 
Love's sweet empire still endures. — 
I want your soul ! Its mystic blessing 
Which round my heart its magic flings ! 
I want your lips, their love expressing, — 
I want that voice, whose music rings ! 

I want no song, upon me stealing, 
In which your love-thrill echoes not ! 
My heart, its tender trust revealing, 
Heaven with you, — the world forgot ! 



TO THE CONQUEROR. x ~ - 

I want your head — upon my breast, Love, — 
Your eyes which sweetly, softly shine ! 
I want to share that blissful rest, Love, 
Your fond heart beating, close to mine ! 



36 



DRIFTING IN THE NIGHT. 



Driftina in tbe IKiobt. 



Our white sail gleamed, on summer seas, beneath 
bright skies 
We drift, but slowly now ! 
Love held the helm, — the course marked by your 
eyes, — 
We drift, in darkness now ! 
And if your heart is loving yet, still true to me, — 
Dear one ! The sail is trembling, — and, — I can- 
not see ! 

I know the joys which smiled, beside that pur- 
pled shore ! 
We drift, in silence now ! 

The love-light in your eyes which thrills my soul 
no more, 
We drift, to leeward now ! 

I hear the sullen breakers roar, — the land I can- 
not see, — 

But, my fond heart is wildly whispering, " Dan- 
ger ! " now to me ! 

The night is dark, and cruel rocks hem in the 
narrow bay, 
We drift at midnight, now ! 



DRIFTING IN THE NIGHT. j <yj 

The sunlight of your smile may come at break 

of day ! 
We drift, toward ruin now ! 
Your arms, my dearest, cling once more, the long 

night past ! 
Your sweet eyes flash their message bright : 

" Safe, — safe — at last ! " 



j.g AVF WIEDERSCHEXl SUSSE VOGELCHENS. 



But TOcDcrscbcn ! Suese Dogelcbens. 

To my Lovely American Musical Neighbors. 



Auf Wiederschen ! My Vogels dear ! — 

Although I had to move, one day, — 

I loved you, — though you mixed my plot, 

And shadow figures, in strange way ! 

My hero, — " o'er the dark abyss," 

My heroine, with tearful eyes ! — 

Your "Sing Akademie " knocked out 

The " Writing Bureau ! " — " That's the size ! 

For, how could " fiction weaver " work, 
At " lovers' troubles," and " sich " things, 
When, next to me, Dear Vogels, there, — 
I heard the rustling of your wings ? 
You were sweet birds ! I never marked 
That strident voice which anger speaks, — 
Your chummy gossip reached me oft, 
But, not, the clashing of your beaks ! 

Dear Vogelchens American ! 
Forgive the man who slipped away ! 
For in my fond and " manly heart " 
There's now the very deuce to pay ! 



AUF IVIEDERSCHENl SUSSE VOGELCHENS. j- ?g 

My book is done. I must "fly forth." 
May no bright joys your future lack ! 
But, if you hold me in your hearts, 
I'll give up scribbling, — and move back ! 

Dear Vogelchens ! My winter mates ! — 
Whose "Sing Akademie," next door, 
Has made the " Ecke " loudly ring, 
Your neighbor's heart is very sore ! 
Chateau de Herzberg's walls will fade, 
As southward, joyous, I depart ; 
But, the sweet racket you have made 
Will linger in my loving heart ! 

To save my life I could not choose 
'Twixt Katie's fairy minstrelsy, 
Or, that light and fantastic touch, 
" Sally Cremona's " sweet high E ! 
I love you both, as mortal man 
Who tries " the subject to embrace." 
Dear woman, in her varied forms, 
I love the smile on each dear face ! 

It would not stop the world's wild swim 

If all my readers " took a rest ; " 

The laurels shine on many brows, 

Believe me, Vogels ! Love is best ! 

But should I lay the pen away, — 

This thought now makes my brain to whirl ! 

If I twanged on the "Lover's Lute," 

God bless me ! Could I choose the girl ? 



140 



AUF WIEDERSCHENl SUSSE VOGELCHENS. 

Ah ! No ! Sing on ! I love you both ! 
I'll write a song for Katie G, — 
And Sally Cremona's " rosin " buy 
To still tone up that sounding E, — 
May your sweet wings still bear you up 
In happiest nights, good fortune nigh ; 
Long live your " Sing Akademie ! " 
I kiss you both ! Sweet girls, good-bye ! 



PART III. 
HISTORY AND PLACE. 



PART III. 
HISTORY AND PLACE. 



"»t IRowno." 

In the old Chateau de Lubomirski. 



Here in the banquet hall I stand, where the 

White Eagle gleams, 
Still, on the frescoed ceiling, with its bare and 

blackened beams, 
The lordly crest of Polish rank, the Lubomirskis 

bear — 
Shines 'mid the wreck and ruin, to point its moral 

there. 

Upon its island high upborne, the huge Chateau 

stands yet, 
Around it smiles the valley, rich with rose and 

mignonette ; 
Fair Rowno's gardens nestle under frowning 

scarped hills 
Where now the victor Russian camps the farther 

landscape tills. 

143 



I44 " AT ROIVNO." 

The lordly pile still shelters peasant maid and 

timid hind, 
Yet, through the gaping casements sweeps the 

scented summer wind ; 
" My Lady's " rooms send echoes back, now 

fraught with many a sigh, 
The Prince's empty audience hall is open to the 

sky ! 

Still the huge columns bear aloft the great ma- 
norial pile, 

And the grand marble stairway guards its 
splendor all the while ; 

Dull gold, dim crystal deck these walls whose 
glories are forgot, 

While far the scented lawn is starred with blue 
" forget-me-not ! " 

The river dreams of bygone days among its 

whispering reeds, 
Where once Napoleon's train of kings sat mute 

upon their steeds ; 
As underneath yon giant oak the arch magician 

bent 
His wondrous eyes on women fair, ere forth to 

fight he went ! 

The year of eighteen seven, he came, from 

Austerlitz in pride, — 
And Jena's rout, the story told, of Europe all 

defied. 



" AT ROW NOP T „ 

r 45 
Here— in these halls, the glass he raised, with a 

world-conquering glance, 
And smiled at Rowno's princess, while Napoleon 

drank to France ! 

"Tout passe,— tout casse— tout lasse,"— they 
say — Duroc is slumbering near 

The master whos heart trembled in Love's witch- 
ing frenzy here ; 

Gay Caulaincourt and brave Bessieres have mixed 
with kindred dust, 

And, buried deep in Russian wastes, the French- 
man's sword is rust ! 

The Princess sleeps, all dreamless now, beneath 

yon bending trees, 
And Russia's black and hungry eagle wooes the 

summer breeze. 
Gone is the light of love-lit eyes, the glory of that 

hour, 
When Poland's nobles madly cheered the Iron 

Man of Power ! 

Napoleon rode to Bronie, far, where sweet 

Walewska's eyes 
Betrayed a soul mad Love had doomed to be the 

monarch's prize. 
The Eagle White no longer meets the sun's first 

kindling glance, 
And Rowno's hall is haunted by the mighty 

ghosts of France ! 
10 



I4 5 " AT ROJVNO." 

There, on the esplanade to-day, in chiseled classic 

art, 
A crumbled Venus smiles at Mars, who bears a 

stony heart. 
But Mars has dropped the sword he held, and 

Venus' arms are gone ; 
Napoleon and his loves are shades — yet, still the 

world runs on ! 



ON THE WE1DENDAMMER BRUCKE. T , „ 

H7 



©n tbe llddfcenfcammer JBrucfee. 



On the Wiedendammer Briicke, each day I see her 

stand, 
With her glowing cheeks, and violets clasped 

within her slender hands : 
A fair young girl with eyes of light, and youth 

upon her brow, 
She lingers — and her heart leaps up, for they are 

coming now ! 

Adown the busy Friedrichstrasse their loud re- 
sounding feet 

Tell of the Zweiter Garde's parade, the rolling 
war drum's beat ; 

The music swells in chorus grand, as with ex- 
pectant eye 

The waiting maiden bends her head till he comes 
riding by ! 

The Kaiser's soldiers — stern and strong ! Their 

Colonel at their head, 
A thousand men in flower of youth, march on 

with springy tread. 



148 ON THE tt'EIDENDAMMER BRUCKE. 

Though all are brave, and soldiers true, she waits 

but to descry 
The first love of her dreaming heart, as they go 

marching by ! 

He comes ! And crimson blushes tell her secret, 

thus confessed : 
The Captain is the handsomest — and, braver than 

the rest ! 
There is but one beneath the sun — their eyes in 

rapture meet ! 
And, thrilled with love, she lingers as they sweep 

along the street ! 

Now, day by day, this grand array the Friedrich- 

strasse fills, 
But from my eyrie, gazing down, a pang my 

bosom thrills : 
The Captain's eyes are fixed and stern, as o'er 

the bridge he goes, 
For lingers there no more, that girl with cheeks 

of velvet rose ! 

Ah ! Autumn now is casting down the dry 

leaves at my feet, 
In the Thiergarten's lonely shades no more that 

maid I meet. 
But, from my casement looking out, at mid-watch 

of the night, 
I saw a dark form lingering near, beneath the 

pale moonlight. 



ON THE WEIDENDAMMER BRUCKE. j. q 

A lonely woman on that bridge was gazing down 
below . 

Into the flowing river chill, where broken star- 
gleams glow. 

Her face was turned away, from where the soldier 
bent his eye, 

To greet the darling of his heart, as he went 
riding by ! 

Oh, loving maid ! Ah, woman lone ! In sun- 
light and in shade 

Are you but one ? 'Tis winter now ! Is this the 
wistful maid ? 

The river runs unanswering by, down to the dis- 
tant sea, 

And silent stars deny the truth which they could 
tell to me ! 

I close the casement with a sigh ! For it is 

ever so ! 
Fond woman waits upon Life's bridge, to greet 

her dearest foe ! 
Though Love betrays, and sorrows tear each 

gentle, loving breast, 
Eve's daughters linger on the bridge, and suffer 

as the rest ! 



[ 5° 



THE OLD CABIN. 



Zhc ©ID Cabin, 

Secret Camp, in the Sierras. 
1887. 



Only a lonely cabin — 

Its door swings to and fro ; 

The leaky roof is no longer proof 

'Gainst the rain or the winter snow, — 

And on the mat of pine-needles here 

The squirrels come and go. 

Its rude old chimney yawns wide 

To the sapphire-tinted sky ; 

No foot the dim trail presses 

To the gurgling spring near by ; — 

Here broken bench, long-unused tools, 

In sad confusion lie. 

Down in the canyon, rippling, 

The river sings its song ; 

The chorus of sweet rustling pines 

In wild notes sweeps along, — 

And I hear the scream of the pirate jay 

The other birds among. 



THE OLD CABIN. I r I 

I know how at night in beauty 
The moonlight tints these hills ; 
I know how the flush of early dawn 
The Eastern distance thrills ; — 
It gilds the dark fringes of pine tops 
And dances upon the rills. 

Lost is the story we seek for — 

The riddle of Fortune sought — 

And whether the hearts here vainly broke 

Or riches dearly bought ; 

It's all the same — in thirty years — 

At last, it comes to naught. — 

Down the dim ravine far dashing, 

The stream sings the same old tune ; 

The tiger lily deepens 

Under the breath of June ; 

And far o'er the crested mountains 

There sails the silver moon. 

A breeze from the far Sierra 
Sweeps down with a ghostly chill ; 
Grim shadows are black in the canyon 
And creep o'er the towering hill. 
I hear a far voice which whispers : 
" 'Tis finished, for good or ill ! " 

The race is run ! The fight is fought ! 
And their place knows them no more ; 
For their graves the stranger would vainly 
seek — 



jc-2 THE OLD CABIN. 

With brambles covered o'er ! 
In sadness I leave the old cabin, 
With its open and creaking door ! 

The wild rose and the laurel leaf 
Lie light on their breasts to-day ; 
The sunlight tints with its earliest glints 
Their graves, and its latest ray- 
Shines tenderly down on the long forgotten, 
Who came to the camp "to stay ! " 

Light on your manly breasts I throw 

A chaplet of careless song — ■ 

For the brave and true and tender hearts 

Your phantom crew among — 

For whose yet unreturning feet 

Loved ones have waited long. 



; SHINE ON, GA L VESTON LIGHT ! 



l 53 



" Sbine on, Galveston Xiflbt ! " 

An old pilot's memory of the engagement of the II. S. Sir. Hat- 
teras and the Confederate cruiser A labama off Galveston Bar, 
fanuary u, 1863. 



By my side stood the hardy seaman, 
And laughed "Ah ! There you are ! 
My will-o'-the-wisp ! Yon harbor light 
Upon Galveston Bar ! 

" Years thirty-one the sun has burned 

The red on my sailor cheek, 

Since I gazed from the Hatteras deck, and hailed 

The stranger that did not speak ! 

" When the answering cry was lost on the wind 
We knew, by her quick broadside, 
'Twas the Alabama's growling voice ! — 
My brother dropped and died ! 

"The thunder guns of that battle fierce," 
He cried, with an angry frown, 
" His requiem boomed on the fatal night 
In the dark when our flag went down ! 

" But, I lived to see the star flag float 
Again on the Texan shore ; 



! e m " SHINE ON, GA L VESTON LIGHT 1 " 

And the sea-gull's scream o'er, the waters dark 
Cries for « Peace forevermore ! 

" The Hatteras lies ten fathom deep 
And deeper still, her foe ; — 
The beaten Alabama sank 
Off Cherbourg long ago I 

'« Now, my heart is light, for the sacred blood 
Of the brave has sealed the bond 
Of our new-born love for the Fatherland, 
Whose flag flies there beyond ! 

" Yon strand was then the foe man's shore, 
Galveston light was dark ; — 
And seaward loomed in the evening gray 
The hull of a hostile bark. 

«• ' Old Glory ' floats o'er the land to-day 
And tells, in its gathering stars, 
Of the bright-eyed sisters born to all ! 
Not a rent its beauty mars ! 

" Shine on ! Galveston Light ! and aye, 
As from every point we steer 
On the wave-tossed sea, for Liberty — 
May we find you watching here !" 



A MEMORY. jrc 



Tlie following poem is tlie acceptance by Col. Ricliard Henry 
Savage of an invitation to the A nnual Feast of the Tribe of Ismail 
at the Union League, Philadelphia, February 21, 1894. 



A SCORE of years has slipped away — 

My heart was innocent of guile, 
Since far I wandered to the East 

And drank the waters of Old Nile ! 

I strayed along the Appian Way, 
Brundusium quitted with no sigh, — 

In Alexandria's harbor lay. 

And saw the Pharos gleaming nigh. 

My foot has pressed the sifted sands 

Where Pompey's ashes, wind-swept, were, 

And paused before the silent Sphinx, 
Still seeking an interpreter ! 

The breeze from soft ^Egean seas 

Awaked the river's dreamy rest, 
Where sands from Ammon lightly fall 

From Alexander's mouldered breast. 



j -5 A MEMORY. 

I marked the ruined pagan fanes— 
The gods, their altars prone beside — 

And lingered where the Roman, stern, 
In Love's bewitching madness died ! 

From Cheops' pyramid I gazed 
Upon Napoleon's foughten field, 

The ribboned green swept far belo 
An earthly paradise revealed. 



w 



I listened in the moonlit night, 
The bulbul, calling to his mate, — 

From out a Pasha's garden old, 

With swelling throat and voice elate. 

Now musing here, those days return, 
And Thebes and Philae lone I see, — 

I hear the Arab girls in song, 
The wild bazaar returns to me ! 

I wore the fez ! I dreamed the dreams 
Of Love and Youth, heart beating high 

And treasured Hermes' wisdom less 
Than one glance ot Fatima's eye ! 

A score of years has ploughed my brow, — 
Yet tower and kiosk and minaret, 

Come back upon my fancy now, 

With memories dearly treasured yet ! 

The grave and hospitable Turk, 

With kindness, pressing to a fault — 

The shelter 'neath the stranger roof — 
The sparkle of Arabian salt — 



A MEMORY. jcy 

All these are dear, yet there, as here, 

My intuitions are aright ; 
The board might be a paradise, 

But one small thing would set it right ! 

The Moslem spreads with open hand 

A feast so rich my fancy whirls. 
But dallies with tha. golden key, 

Which carefully locks up his girls ! 

In joining then your happy tribe, 
The time propitious, fortunes fair — 

It only racks my gentle breast 
To know Fatima can't be there ! 

Oh ! Tribe renowned of Ismail ! 

The girls of Penn, demure and sweet, 
If they could grace your festal board, 

The Masque of Life would be complete ! 

Nevertheless, I will come, — for peradventure, I 
may at some later day meet some of the ladies of 
the Quaker City ! 

THE HADJI, 

Richard Henry Savage. 



i5» 



THE LAST OF THE HUNTING TACK. 



Gbe Xast of tbe tmntftiG pacft. 

Ni»iovitch—i8Q4 . 



There by the great hall door, his spectral form 

I see, 
In the evening gray, the poor old hound, who 

turns sad eyes on me ! 

Still, in these three long years, he haunts that 

opening door, 
To greet, with his merry gambols, the man who 

comes back — no more. 

" Chic ! " Poor old white foxhound ! The last 

of the hunting pack, 
Waits there, and greets each comer, to welcome 

his master back ! 

Alas ! The days are gone, when Folly ruled 

here at its pitch. 
For — women and wine and song, slew the Master 

of Nimovitch ! 

Fast as his hounds ran on, in the breath of the 

forest wind, 
The Baron could never outride those viewless 

hounds behind ! 



THE LAST OF THE HUNTING PACK. j^g 

The hounds of Ruin and Misery, shadowing each 

disaster ! 
They outstripped poor old " Chic," as he led on 

his headlong master ! 

For, Meyendorf comes not to the great hall's 

arching door, 
His grave is a lone and forgotten one, by far 

Odessa's shore. 

And, other women laugh to-day, in the Chateau 

hall, 
For, fresher lips taste the wine, which sparkles 

there for all ! 

Forgot in the song, his last card played, — the 

serfs too can even forget 
The man who ruled over them ! Poor old 

" Chic " is true and faithful yet ! 

Here, where the laugh loud echoes, and the dance 

rings out in the hall : 
I see the old dog, still there on guard, found 

faithful over all ! 

'Tis bitter true ! For the women betrayed, and 

his comrades fell away, 
But, the dog, who bears no human heart, is true 

as steel to-day ! 

Mute friend ! I offer the hand in caress, for I've 

grown to love you quite, — 
But, — he only looks for dead Meyendorf, and 

vanishes in the night ! 



!6o FROM THE TOWERS OF NOTRE DAME. 



5rom the bovvers of motre 2)ame. 



Who shall raise up the song in thy praise ? 
For thee what words are meet ? 
Oh ! Thou of the fickle woman heart ! 
Low crouching, with panther feet ! 

Bright-eyed queen of the world's Light Loves ! 
Pitiless, passionate, strong, — 
Thou killest the fiery lovers 
Who tarry with thee long ! 

High up in air, I dream o'er thy lights, 
Swarming as golden bees : 
The restless million creeping below, 
Like ants through the stunted trees. 

Here hung the foundling and glowered, 
" Quasimodo," — long years ago : — 
And the passion tide as strong to-day 
Sweeps in eddies to and fro. 

Cursed with the blood of Bartholomew Day, — 
Built on the Parisii's graves ; 
Brother blood, alien blood, royal blood 
Thickened the gray Seine's waves ! 



FROM THE TOWERS OF NOTRE DAME, jfo 

Ah ! Streets of Paris, stretching far, 
Flint-fanged, for the weary feet, 
Crimson of morn, gold of high noon, 
And — stars of the night, repeat 

Thy bold-eyed summons to all mankind ! 
Come to my bosom ! Haste ! 
For, all men shall know and possess thee, — 
Lutetia ! Thou human waste ! 

Hark ! A dull heavy boom rings out ! 
Is it the guns of Valerien ? 
Stones of St. Roch ! Can the gray-eyed 
Corsican come back again ? 

Forty palaces glimmer below, 
Where the Children of France once played ! 
Over the Mighty One — stilled at last, — 
The Invalides casts its shade. 

Ah ! My fond eyes can still call up, 

Eugenie — from blue hilled Spain ! 

Who reigned from her summer throne, in grace, 

And, crownless fled again ! 

Haunts of Pleasure ! Lovers' nests ! 
Marts for the busy fool ! 
Paris, with bared breast, longs to-day, 
For a master, steel-hearted, to rule ! 

Blood, wine-mixed, veiled in powder wreaths, 
Incense of Pleasure and Sin I 
ii 



!6 2 FROM THE TOWERS OF NOTRE DAME. 

Seethes round the Place de la Concorde, 
Where Louis, Death's gate went in ! 

Ah ! The fair heads ! The proud heads that 

fell, 
Beneath la Guillotine's kiss ! 
Bright-faced was the haughty Austrian 
Would you know Lamballe, in this — 

Pale sweet dead woman's mask, tossed high 
Aloft on the point of a spear ! 
Peerless Danton, Robespierre grim, 
All came to the death-mill here ! 

Foeman, stranger, victor, throng, 
Madman and "sans culotte," — 
To play at this fierce game of Paris life, — 
Where all things come to naught ! 

Hungry, still hungry, this Paris ! 
Gay mistress of arts and graces, — 
Breaking the hearts of her cast-off kings, 
Branding the loveliest faces ! 

Captured flags of the world 
Gleam in thy marble halls J 
All thine own trophies scattered, 
Torn with the victor's balls ! 

Wreck of a yearning nation's hopes ! 
Grave of its beating heart ! 
Pitiless, wicked — and — beautiful ! 
Sin-crowned, thou standest apart ! 



FROM THE TOWERS OF NOTRE DAME. ■[£, 

Say ! Who shall rule thee, now, Paris ? 
Whose king's ashes lie in the fosse : 
Withered the heart, dimmed the bright eyes 
That once thy dark barriers cross ! 

Give of thy mystic cup forever ! 

Thou Nesle tower of the world ! 

Thy lovers shall drink and shall kiss thee ! 

Down from thy battlements hurled, — 

All will lie prone at thy altar ! 
Venus Victrix ! Still of thy name, — 
Men shall, in shuddering rapture, 
Covet the glory and shame ! 



164 



IN THE SALON OF THE OLD CHA TEA U. 



An tbe Salon of tbe ©10 Cbateau, 



Here in a recessed niche I muse, 
The fire before me brightly gleaming ; 
The old trees bend low to the lake 
Wherein the whitest stars are gleaming. 

The hall is lone — its waxen floor now 

Echoes back no footsteps olden ; 

And in a dusk red gleams light up 

The ceiling's splendor, dimmed but golden. 

From haunts which once hid lovers fond 
The song-bird to his mate is calling ; 
O'er moor and fell, on forests bare, 
The lonely hush of night is falling. 

While nature sleeps my pulses thrill 
When fancy brings back to my vision 
Countess Cecile, whose light foot trod 
The flower-paths of this realm Elysian ! 

Bright gleams the mirrors on the walls 
Wherein my lady found her double, — 



IN THE SALON OF THE OLD CHA TEA U. ^ 

A pictured Venus glowing there, 

By birth held safe from cares and trouble. 

And yet, her lovers sighed and went 
To join the troops, all deathward creeping, — 
And War sent rule old Davoust once, 
Beside this fire, his grim watch keeping. 

Born in the princely ermine near, 

The lady, led by love, descended, 

To wed a simple border count, 

And, left the court so gay and splendid. — 

The room is lone yet echoes back 
To me, to-night, her happy laughter ; 
I see her graceful form once more, 
The grand hall rings to sounding rafter. 

Bright, beautiful and gay she passed ! 
And, now, her soul gone to God's keeping, 
Where the rank grass waves o'er her grave 
The beauty of the court is sleeping ! 

In the old chapel on the hill 
Cecile Wistockieh's name now shining 
Upon a quaint carved silver shield, 
Tells she has passed beyond repining ! 

Yet, on these walls, in Directoire, — 
She smiles and rules — her eyes immortal 
Are speaking to me now ! I hear 
Her dainty footsteps at the portal ! 



,66 IN THE SALON OF THE OLD CHA TEA U. 

Her slender finger on mute lips 

Hides what mankind has sought for ages, 

The ghostly beauty holds the key 

To the unanswered cry of sages ! 



SUNSET A T N I MOV ITCH. 



■6 7 



Sunset at TUmovitcb. 

Volhyn ia-Russia . 



Far down to the fringing forests 

The emerald prairie sweeps, 

And from the west, beyond the marsh, 

A golden glory creeps — 

A dying radiance lingering round 

A harvest land that sleeps. 

Rooks in the birch trees are calling, 

The lowing herds drag on, 

And the peasant chants an olden song 

Of glories that are gone. 

The greenest eastern skies are wrapped 

In mist-wreaths gray and wan. 

Down in the park's dim reaches 

The Chateau's white walls tower, 

And the church of the Russ there bears aloft 

Its cross of conquering power — 

The old men chat in the cabined streets 

In the hush of the evening hour. 



j 53 S UNSE T AT NIMO VI TCH. 

Tania, with milk-pail, pauses 

To smile on her loving swain ; 

In the rye-thatched cabin doors the crones 

All chatter, in dull refrain, 

Of that day in the future dim and far 

When Poland will rise again ! 



IN THE SIERRAS. 



169 



1Tn tbe Sierras. 



Do you remember, friend of mine long parted, — 

Bear Canyon, in the hills : — 

Its masses of far waving pines, the plashing 

Of sunlit, icy rills : — 

Gray rocks — embattled crags far o'er us raising, 

Their pinnacles in the clear sky : 

And, happy-hearted, in these depths amazing, 

We wandering — you and I. 

At morn when golden gleams the hills were paint- 
ing, 

New tints the cliffs took on. 

And while the song-bird's matin note was sound- 
ing 

He flashed past, and was gone ! 

From pine and old madrofia, fragrant zephyrs 

Your fair cheek softly fanned : — 

God's day came up in magic splendor 

Into that far, lost land ! 

We lingered in those forest shadows tender, 
Where Mother Nature's magic lay ! 
With skill no mortal touch could ever render 
She tinged the growing day ! 



I7o IN THE SIERRAS. 

Each happy hour its joyous fellow followed, 
Ah ! — cares could not abide ; 
There, — hid in the great Heart of the Sierras, — 
For, — you were by my side ! 

Down echoing vistas of the wooded reaches, 

Our wandering steps oft strayed : 

When all the beauty of the virgin forest 

Before us was arrayed ! 

Down to the bluest waters of the Ocean 

The Day God slowly fell, — 

And, hand in hand, Love led us there together 

At sunset, in the dell. 

When through the giant redwood's spreading 

branches 
A silver moonlight streamed : 
As bright as diamonds, Love of mine — your dear 

eyes 
Upon me, starlike, beamed ! 
By the red camp fire, — sweetest song, — old story, 
Their romance wove around : 
And, all your woman arts and gentle graces, 
Made that, enchanted ground ! 

Long years have fled ! afar, your light step 
wanders 

In paths now strange to me ! 

The gulf between our sundered hearts, Lost Dar- 
ling ! 

Is deeper — than the sea ! 

And, still the singing pines are ever breathing 



IN THE SEIRRA S. l y I 

Their anthem sweet as then ; — - 

Where once your light foot pressed the vine 

leaves, 
The roses bloom again 

Some day ! when all that holds you from me 

Has faded from my sight, 

I may seek out that forest tryst, Love, 

And — wait your footstep light ! — 

Your thrilling voice hear in its promise, 

Yet echoing in my heart ; 

And, there, in those dim arches, — 

Swear nevermore to part ! 

Not part in sorrow, or in cold estrangement ! 

For, still I bear your spell : — 

And, by the song the tossing pines sang o'er us, 

I cannot say, — Farewell ! — 

Through weary years, I have held you folded 

Deep in a loving breast ! 

And, Love can yet bring back your dear head, 

Down, on my heart, to rest 1 



j - 2 0- ^ TCHING A L ONE IN LA MP. 



TKflatcbfng alone in Camp. 



Alone ! while o'er the mountain brow 
The brightening moon is creeping ! 
Alone! For all around me now 
The soldier band lie sleeping ! 

The cool breeze whispers from the hill, 
Its freshness to me bringing ! 
The surfs soft roar along the shore 
In music sweet is ringing ! 

The silver tide slow ripples past 
In curves of sinuous motion, 
A lovely smile that beams upon 
The wrinkled face of Ocean ! 

Alone ! Ah ! No ! In memory change 
The chimes of sweetest measures ! 
Bright from the past, are conjured up 
My life's vignettes of pleasures ! 

Strange chances of the bygone time 
That still around me linger ; 
Heart treasures, sheltered from the touch 
Of Time's effacing finger ! 



W A TCHING A L ONE IN CAMP. j * , 

The shadowy smile of her whose face 
Shall be with me forever. 
The music of her laughing voice 
I lose from memory — never ! 



! y a FOUR TEE NTH OF A PRJL, 1867. 



ffourteentb of Bpril,— 1867. 



Two years ago this day, 

Blind treason struck the blow, 
Aimed at the noblest in the land, 

Laid Abram Lincoln low, 
A hush went o'er the land ; 

We felt a gathering gloom, 
Clouding the sunny day of Spring 

We laid him in the tomb. 

Time winged his ceaseless, silent flight. 

Full bitterly we thought it o'er, 
That Spring would smile on us again, 

But we should see his face no more ; 
The kindly face that never frowned 

Whene'er his cause the poor man plead,- 
The quiet smile, the honest heart, 

Are gone ; his memory's dear instead ! 

The Ship of State, whose helm he held 
With firm and skilful guiding hand, 

Now helpless floats 'midst angry waves, 
And fails to reach the promised land. 



FOURTEENTH OF APRIL, 1867. 

We miss our pilot — grand old Abe, 
How dear to us we never guessed, 

Until this day — two years ago, 
We laid him in his place of rest. 



Green be the grass that o'er him waves, 

As green his memory ever be, 
Until we meet him in the land 

That smiles beyond the silent sea. 
In the fair cycles yet to come, 

His name shall shine on History's page, 
All other glorious names among, 

The grandest, brightest ot the age ! 



175 



176 



OUR ALMA MATER. 



©ur Blma dfcater. 



Where Hudson pours his silver flood 

In chorus grand along, 
And Cro' Nest's rocky-seamed sides 

Re-echo e'er his song, 
Dear Alma Mater's walls arise 
'Neath fairer than Italian skies, 

And brighter scenes among ! 

Four years, a little span of life, 

A little space of time, 
I lingered in her ancient halls, 

Wooed by her scenes sublime. 
The brightest joys that youth can bless, 

Or early manhood know, 
Smiled on me in the dear old place, 

In days of " Long Ago." 

Dear Alma Mater, reverently, 

On thy fame-lighted brow, 
I lovingly my tribute leave, 

And breathe a blessing low ; 



OUR ALMA MATER. f jj 

May glory gild thy honored age, 

Thy sons e'er worthy be 
To guard thy name with jealous care, 

And dying, honor thee ! 



i 7 8 



THE CALIFORNIA THEATRE. 



Sbe California abeatre. 

" Old Drury " in its decay. 



A Memory — 1867-1S87. 



'TIS twenty years, and moth and rust 
Have gnawed their sad and bitter way ; 
Bright hues are dulled and fond hopes fled 
Since poor old Drury 's natal day. 
Yet still I feel a kindly touch : 
Old passions thrill my pulses cold ; 
Faint whispers in lone memory's halls 
Revive the " Romance of the Old ! " 

Young life ! First love ! The bloom and flush 

Of mimic skill lies prone and dead. 

The sifted sands drift sadly down 

Around poor Ralston's stately head ! 

I grieve to see the lonely fane, 

The home of true and classic art, 

For genius made these walls a shrine — 

Old glories linger in my heart ! 



THE CALIFORNIA THEATRE. l7Q 

The days of gold, of youth and hope, 
Ere yet the frost of twenty years 
Had turned bright beauty's temples white. 
The splendid storied past appears. 
Dear eyes long fixed dance once again ; 
A magic voice all loved once wakes 
My heart's lone echoes ; on my eyes 
The fairy scene in splendor breaks. 

Why name the past ? Why call the roll ? 
The loved and lost we surely know. 
The poor old temple has forgot 
Its dignities of long ago ! 
But, faded scene and curtain torn, 
And dome and arch in sad decay, 
Bear witness mute of one lone grave 
'Neath England's daisies far away ! 

The "gifted, beautiful," she rests 
No more in tender trance to draw 
All hearts to bow at beauty's shrine — 
To make each mirrored thought a law 
Of classic grace in form and face, — 
To hear our praise in thunders loud ! 
Sweet Neilson rests in alien earth, 
Deep buried .«« from the madding crowd." 

May genius, talent, social grace 
Around this tomb the curtain close ! 
The fragrance of its art has fled ; 
We "smell the mould above the rose." 



j go THE CALIFORNIA THEATRE. 

These lonely walls and sounding steps 
Recall bright eye and bounding foot. 
" Fled is the music " — silent all — 
The very echoes now are mute ! 

There's many a laughing voice is stilled 
Since " Drury " rose, these buried years. 
Ah ! many a joyous note has failed 
And crystallized in bitter tears. 
For men may come, may rule or die, 
And women change from queens to slaves. 
Poor " Drury " in its last decay 
Alone its coming ruin braves ! 

No, not alone ! one reverent foot 
Shall linger at the once loved door ; 
An hour I wait ; my breath attends 
The despot's sentence — " Nevermore ! " 
There, where one dear face used to shine, 
I'll sit and muse the time away. 
Break not the spell ! Still let me dream 
Of roses blushing in their May. 

It will not down ! The choking throb ! 
A tribute of this heart to fate — 
These faint and fragrant dreams of old 
Their fervor never will abate ! 
In fond affection still I press 
The boards of beauty's olden round. 
For graces fled and glories dead 
Have made this stage a holy ground. 



PART IV. 
POLITICS AND MILITARY. 



PART IV. 
POLITICS AND MILITARY. 



Samson. 

Berlin, 1894. 



Here, by the Brandenburg Gate to-day, the 

Prussian sentry stands, 
And grasps the ready needle-gun, within his 

sinewy hands. 
Above his head the brazen steeds drag Victory's 

car along ; 
And at defeated foes, they sneer and raise 

triumphant song ! 

Far down the Linden avenue, young Samson's 

troops parade ; 
The Kaiser's flag wooes every breeze, in 

haughtiest pride displayed ; 
A million armed men are nigh, to brave an 

anxious world ; 
" The watch is on the Rhine " to-day ! The battle 

flag unfurled ! 

183 



j 54 SAMSON. 

Young Samson of our later day ! The fierce 
young Kaiser stands ! 

But holds the truncheon of his line in yet un- 
practised hands ; 

Still, maddest pride his bosom swells — the 
Victory column nigh, 

The Reichstag's wonder palace shines before the 
Imperial eye ! 

Carpe diem ! A proverb true ! Samson forgets 
the past, 

When Prussians flag drooped feebly in defeat's 
unkindest blast; 

When Jena's rout sent back in fright, a helpless, 
bleeding horde, 

And Louis nobly died beneath a common troop- 
er's sword ! 

Samson forgets the tears that filled those sainted 

queenly eyes 
When bold Napoleon gave the rose, but made 

the realm his prize ! 
By Frederick's rifled tomb he sees not Louise, on 

her knees ! 
And, Austerlitz, wild tumult wails no longer on 

the breeze ! 

Samson forgets the Russian saved the crown 

upon his head, 
And, only Nelson's cannon foiled that mighty foe 

now dead. 



SAMSON. jgc 

Yes ! even Austria has helped to save the Prussian 

crown ; 
And yet, at Konigratz, her armies dragged her 

ally down ! 

Look at the trophy column there ! Its triple 

cannon rows 
Her gilded shrine, though blood-stained, when 

you tore them from your foes. 
But, Samson ! Turn away your eyes from little 

Denmark's spoil, 
And even feeble Austria's guns which cost you 

bloody toil ! 

It is not great or generous to triumph o'er the 

weak, 
And if a warrior's laurels still your haughty line 

must seek, 
When you ride by, with pitying eye cast one 

regretful glance 
To where they shine in mockery — the captured 

guns of France ! 

Ah, Samson ! Prussia never hurled Napoleon 

from his throne ; 
The Gallic Caesar played a game some day may 

be your own ! 
Pride goes before a fall they say, and you may 

well beware 
The eagle soaring past the Rhine, and watch the 

Russian bear ! 



!g6 SAMSON. 

For Hatred never sleeps, and swords are sharp- 
ened in the night ! 

One Caesar in imperial Rome awoke in sudden 
fright ; 

His life blood in the quick surprise great 
Pompey's statue dyed ; 

It was in full imperial state he perished — in his 
pride ! 

Great Samson, armed and mailed, rules and 

stretches out his hands ; 
The arbiter of Europe now, the Hohenzollern 

stands ! 
Beware the Ice King's smothered wrath ! It 

dragged Napoleon down, — 
And France with ringing battle cry may strike 

at Samson's crown ! 

For Fortune is a fickle jade ! A woman some- 
times kind ; 

And often, ready to betray her lover fond and 
blind ! 

Delilah's arts delivered once great Samson to his 
foes, 

And, haughty pride before a fall, in ostentation, 
goes ! 



THE BROKEN SHIELD.** 



187 



"Gbe ffirofeen SbfelD." 

[By the ofieu grave of General Ulysses S. Grant, United Stales 
Army, Ex-President of the United States, August 7-8, 1885.] 



Now break his shield and cast it in yon grave — 
That battered buckler, worn in honor long — 
Tis useless ! Death has thrown his dart ! 

Ah ! let him sleep ! 
Around his couch the sable curtains draw. 
Now, what to him is name or fame, 
The smile of woman, fond affection's tear, 
Or plaudit of the fickle common voice ? 
No hollow honors thrill that weary breast ; 
No strife of man nor earthly tumult wakes. 
Death's silent sentinels, posted for all time, 
Their vigils keep beside the mighty dead ! 
With broken arms, in faded blue and gray, 
They hold our country's watch to-night ! 
There's not a whisper by that yawning grave 
Where Fame and Honor, shrouded handmaids, 

wait. 
And bowed in grief, Columbia's royal form, 
In sable state, with every bright star veiled 
Which glittered on her fair and virgin brow, 
Kneels prostrate in an agony of grief. 



jgg " THE BROKEN SHIELD." 

Above, one changeless star of "Union " burns, 
Fixed in our country's midnight skies ! 
Those awful shades — the mighty Three— 
Who stand enwrapped in Death's imperial woe ! 
What silent chieftains call ye them ? 
The glorious three we knew of old ? 
'Tis great Virginia's royal son, the mighty Wash- 
ington ! 
And Lincoln — all our country's child ! 
Brave Garfield, with his faded laurels damp 
Upon his cold and manly brow ! 
What means this group of giant warrior shades, 
Who lock their marble hands, fixed in a friendly 

grasp ? 
There stands the knightly Lee and waits apart, 
To drop a wreath of Southern cypress dark 
Into the hungry grave. Grand Thomas leans 
Upon the shoulder of once fiery Hood ! 
Here, Sedgwick clasps the cold, cold hand 
Which once held Stonewall Jackson's mighty 

sword ! 
From Shiloh's shades see noble Johnston comes 
To cast a spray of Western pine upon 
His silent rival's tomb. Meade and McPherson, 

too, — 
The steady Hill, the peerless Farragut, are 

there ! 
Cleburne and Reynolds olden hate forget ; 
And in the ranks of this sad friendly muster, — 
See dashing Stuart, and the gallant Custer ! 
While — far away — the ghostly armies stand, 



" THE BROKEN SHIELD:" jgg 

No blade stretched toward a daring brother's 

breast. 
The guns all silent ! All is peace and rest ! 
There's brother love abroad, on land and sea, 
From Maine's dark forests to the Golden Gate, — 
From Texan prairies to our silver lakes. 
And from the distance of the drowsy East 
Faint flashes come which tell us of the morn \ 
And far sweet angel voices seem to chime, 
In murmured songs of Hope and Love ! 
The eastern light is streaked with red and white, 
The distant sky gleams friendly blue. Look — 

far— 
Away upon our country's dome we trace all of 

our stars ! 
Beside this open grave leave all that's cold and 

and dark, 
Which tells of ancient sorrow — struggles done — 
Our country's sons ! the loved and lost have 

here 
Clasped hands for Time and for Eternity. 
Last of his orders — let all battle cease ! 
In generous rivalry his words we falter now, 
Who said in darkest times of old to all — 
" Let us have peace ! " " Let us have peace ! " 

Amen ! 



jOO THA T OLD CHECK-BOOK. 



Gbat ©U> Cbecfcstfooft. 

1864-1892. 

AN OLD CADET'S MEMORIES. 



Old book ! you now admonish me, 

My race of life is nearly run, — 
A score of years have slipped away, 

Since last I heard the morning gun ! 

And yet, at forty-six, the man, — 

In Fancy's glass can sometimes see : — 

The bright-faced boy, who crawled out slow, 
At rattling drums of reveille ! 

The Point is changed ! the men are gone 
Who ruled or toiled, who flanked and drilled. 

Some passed beyond the stars, and some 
By the wild " blooming Injuns " killed ! 

The sons of these, in jackets gray 

Now shadow forth their father's faces, — 

And bright-eyed girls, in shady walks 
Reflect their lovely mothers' graces ! 



THAT OLD CHECK. BOOK. jqj 

And still, the moonlight sleeps as soft 
On sculptured hill and flowing river 

The bugles sink, the " old flag" flies ! — 
And " boning math " goes on forever ! 

The budding spring its sunshine casts 
On worn and jaded student brows, — 

And leafy June her mantle rare 

Of beauty, round the " old Point " throws i 

I've traveled round the weary world, 

And roamed the plains, with princes dined, 

Whatever fate has brought my way, 
I've held my faith and ne'er repined ! 

There may be sorrows in my path 
To throw their shadows o'er me yet ! 

But, faithful to the ancient creed 
I'll meet them like an «« old Cadet ! " 

As round my grizzled head the smoke 

In fairy cloud-puffs curls and wreathes, — 

Again from Crow Nest's beetling cliff 
The purest air of Heaven blue, breathes ! 

I think I see the dear gray line, 

Hear Forrest Black's rich voice once more, — 
Again I sit with aching brow 

And bone my mathematics o'er ! 

Those welcome gallops " down the road " 
The love maze of Flirtation's walks : — 



!q 2 THA T OLD CHECK-BOOK. 

And while the music sweetly sounds 

From " Hop room," those sweet stolen talks ! 

That darling girl who smiled on me, 
Lies cold with violets on her breast ! 

Her voice still thrills me from the past 
Her gentle heart is long at rest ! 

There's touches here of dark and light — 
Friends passed away, some cold, and yet, 

My heart is thrilling wild to-night 
With " Memories of an old Cadet ! " 



" GO/.VG OUT." ^3 



<3ofng Out. 



Fill up with merry hearts, dear friends, 

And mock the hours too fleeting, 
This night for parting makes amends — 

I give my final greeting ; 
May memories of the olden times 

Be ever dear as now — 
Stand up and drink it every one — 

The old times, boys : Here's " how ! " 

The flag, the dear old flag we loved, 

That braved the storm and rattle, 
Of troublous times, when fortune frowned, 

And chance gave way the battle ; 
That fluttered o'er us as we scaled 

Old Lookout's beetling brow. — 
Up, up ; and drain a parting glass ! 

God bless the flag. Here's " how ! — 

Silence ! Remember all the men 

Our comrades ever cherished 
Who dropped so silently away ; 

The gallant hearts who perished — 
«3 



]g4 "GOING OUT." 

On many fields. The men we loved, — 
Whose memories thrill us now, — 

God bless them in their honored graves ! 
Our comrades gone. Here's " how ! " 

The ladies ! fill your goblets high, 

All honor to them giving : 
The soldier's constant champions, 

They make our life worth living. 
With loyal hearts in reverence, 

Each to his idol bow 
Tender and true. Up : every one, — 

" Sweethearts and wives ! " Here's " how ! 

Now, while each eye is kindling bright, 

Each warm heart quickly beating, 
A last word, mine, to say " good-bye," 

Good luck, and hopes for meeting. 
In the dim future all of you : — 

My voice will scarce allow 
The words ; but drink my parting toast — 

Good-bye the mess : Here's «* how ! " 



custer's luck: 



*95 



Custer's Xucfc." 



Where the far Rosebud steals its way 
By the thickets' tangled blind, 

The dying echoes murmur 
On the fitful prairie wind. 

The rattling sabre's martial clank, 
The ring of the charger's heel, 

A cheery sound of a voice beloved 
Heard high o'er the sounding steel. 

A voice we knew and hailed of old, 
Our knight of the golden hair, 

More true than the furnace-tested gold, 
"George Custer" — the " debonair." 

'Tis «« Custer's Luck ! " — the fluttering flag 
Sinks close to the trooper's hand, 

And a silken shroud it makes for him 
Under clinging prairie sand. 

Let the voice of woe be mute and hushed, 

The kindling eye be dry, 
As we learn from the trooper peerless 

The way for a man to die ! 



jq5 "CUSTER'S LUCK." 

And " Forward ! " " Forward ! " " Forward ! 

His cry rings on the wind ; 
'Twas " Custer's Luck " to leave no man 

With a bolder heart behind ! 

Oh ! brave young General fallen — 

True hearts in rusty blue — 
Your story thrills the heart's warm core ; 

But where ! — ah ! where are you ? 

Out on the lonely prairie wild, 

Under God's circling sky, 
The sentinel stars our only guide 

To where our fallen lie ! 



THE IRISH SOLDIER. lc >j 



Gbe Urisb Sol&ter* 



Flung off as free as the wild wave's foam 

From the crags of her stormy coast — 
'Neath alien skies — they sleep to-day, 

The men of Ireland's host. 
The shamrock green their monument, 

In silent ranks they lie, 
As calm as her bright and dreaming lakes 

Sleep under their native sky. 

All cold the warrior's nerved hands, 

All stilled the springing feet. 
No more they storm the yawning breach 

Or whirl in squadrons fleet. 
Their tattered banners borne afar, 

In every land remain, 
In honor wreathed round Irish tombs 

O'er swords without a stain. 

9 

Above their graves the kinsmen tread 

In pride on Patrick's day, 
With shamrock green in memory worn 

Of heroes passed away. 



Ig 8 THE IRISH SOLDIER. 

As every true heart wears its bit 

Of green and lovely shoots, 
He knows beneath the Emerald sod 

The dead clutch at its roots ! 

You cannot drive from Ireland's hearts 

A love of sword and song ; 
You cannot smother fires long-lit 

By cold and brutal wrong ! 
The native gold of Irish wit, 

Of truth and honor rare, 
Lies deep in Patrick's chosen isle — 

The stranger finds it there. 

Far from the " sod " her soldiers sleep, 

Beneath soft Spanish skies ; 
Or, buried 'mid the springing corn 

Of Belgium, Paddy lies ! 
Where, side by side with England's pride, 

In bloody Death's confines, 
True to their flag, against their friends, 

The Irish held the lines ! 

The sand slopes of the dark Redan 

Are built o'er Irish bones ; 
In India many a trooper lost 

The trumpet's signal tones, 
As, cold in death, he fell beneath 

The English flag to save 
A sordid crowd who live to bind 

Their fetters on the slave ! 



THE IRISH SOLDIER. jgg 

We know their worth — these Irish lads — 

Who oft their truth to show, 
Have borne our star-flag high aloft 

From Maine to Mexico — 
And honors mantle bright around 

These Celtic knights who lie 
Dead under the blue of the northern lights, 

Or the gray of a southern sky. 

Here's to their honored memory — bless 

The land which gave them birth. 
These Irish soldiers, staunch and true, 

Free lances of the earth. 
Long may their children keep in mind 

These men who " showed the way " — 
Who charged to "Garryowen," and 

All cold round " Custer " lay. 

Stout hearts, true hands, we fill our glass 

To Ireland and her sons ! 
In silence drain ! To honor all 

Who fell beside their guns ! 
The sunburst flag may never wave 

On earth, yet will be seen 
For ages wrapped in Fame's brightest wreath, 

The Irish Standard green ! 



THEY'RE VOICELESS NOW, 



they've XDoicelesz IRow. 



Upon the lonely, still parade 

Shines down a Winter moon, 
In peace the old guns stand arrayed 

By fort and demi-lune. 

There's many a Summer rose has bloomed, 
Since silent, back, they came ; 

Their thunder stilled, no more they scream 
With bronze lips breathing flame. 

Bright eyes are closed, the voices mute 
Which bade their hoarse throats tell 

How much we loved the starry flag ; 
They served their country well. 

A spell of blessed, holy peace 

Broods o'er us all. Amen ! 
God help the foe who makes us wake 

Their echoes once again ! 



FELHAM'S LAST FIGHT: 



20I 



" iPelbam's last SfiQhU" 

A Story of a Galla?it Foeman. 



They lay beside the warworn guns, 

As bold as men may be, — 
The Horse Artillery — Stewart's pride — 

The pets of Robert Lee. 

Above them, sighed the Southern pines ; 

The river sang below. 
Far glittered on a thousand heights 

The watchfires of the foe. 

Came thundering hoofs— a dashing aid ; 

" Move out, sharp, to the front ; 
'Tis Uncle Robert calls you there 

To take the battle's brunt." 

The moonbeams showed the mustering Horse 

Their boy commander stood 
And leaned — a stripling — on his sword 

Hard by the gloomy wood. 

A daring boy, the raiders fought 
By sound of Pelham's guns — 



2 02 " PELHA M'S LAST FIGHT} 

The youngest, brightest, bravest 
Of old Alabama's sons ! 



On Bull Run's bloody plains that lad 

Had held his battery well, — 
While wood and valley echoed back 

Hoarse screams of shot and shell. 

Calm, quiet, gentle, Pelham moved, 

The darling of the fight ; 
The Southern laurels on his brow 

To cypress changed that night. 

Freemantle spoke, that Guardsman tried : 

" My lad ! our colors here, 
A symbol at my neck I've worn 

For many a weary year. 

" This regimental badge we guard 

In honor, England's sons — 
Come, wear it in this fight for me ; — 

I'll think of Pelham's guns ! " 

The fair boy twined the Coldstream's scarf 

Around his breast so true ; 
And faintly smiled when asked he might 
Some deed of daring do. 

Bright morning brought the battle's roar. 

When that long day was done 
John Pelham lay, a mangled corpse, 

Beside his favorite gun. 



" PELHAM'S LAST FIGHT." 2Q , 

A stricken Colonel dropped the flag 

Old Alabama gave ; 
Quick, Pelham caught the falling staff, 

His state's renown to save. 

He turned his horse. He led them on — 

The red upon his breast, 
The Coldstream's ribbon, redder grew, 

Dyed with his heart's blood best ! 

Montgomery knows the marble shaft 

Which cons his glory o'er ; 
The English Colonel treasures yet 

That ribbon Pelham wore ! 

And Southern friend and Northern foe — 
Seek the young raider's grave — 

The boy artillerist — loved by all — 
The bravest of the brave ! 



2Q4 "ON THE BRINK." 



©n tbe JBrfnft. 



[ What the IV or king man has to say to our new Chinese Em- 
bassador. A Rough Song for Rough Times, .] 



I. 

Lay down your gilded chop-sticks, 

Leave Ah Sing's banquet fine, 
Step out of the Chinese Joss house 

And look at this home of mine. 
Gaze on our empty workshops, 

You hear the toilers shout, 
If that brown cancer broadens, 

We mean to cut it out. 



We go to empty larders, 

Our idle children throng 
The silent streets, and you may find 

Though we have waited long, 
That labor's sons will gather 

The filthy horde to rout ; 
We loathe that Chinese cancer, 

And swear to cut it out ! 



' ' ON THE BRINK.' ' 2q h 

III. 

We've waited hopeless, heartsick, 

And see our paper laws 
Fly tattered in the ocean breeze — 

The Chinese dragon claws — 
Crawl nearer every dreary day, 

We mean to end all doubt, 
And now you hear the people cry, 

We'll cut the cancer out. 

IV. 

Curse on the politician, 

Who clutches Chinese gold ! 
We tire of fine-spun pleading, 

Wise saws and maxims old ! 
Let on the bench each dreamy judge 

In grave abstraction pout ; 
They'll wake in fright when maddened men 

Shall cut this cancer out. 



Who holds the breast to battle ? 

Who delves in steaming mines ? 
Who pushes Labor's car ahead 

Where peace and freedom shines ? 
Go ask your filthy heathens 

Our country's foes to rout ! 
They sap our walls — the traitor horde- 

We'll drive the brown scum out ! 



20 6 "ON THE BRINK." 

VI. 

Now by the wives whose bread we earn, 

The children at the knee — 
By helpless age and sorrow's voice, 

This land is for the free ! 
And white and black are on their track, 

The workers face about, 
And swear by Christian manhood true 

To dig that cancer out ! 

VII. 

Be warned in time ! The idle shop, 

The squalid white man's home, 
And mutterings loud 'neath trouble's cloud, 

Tell of a storm to come ; 
And when it bursts, as burst it will, 

Nor gun nor Russian knout 
Can tame the men who swear to God 

To cut that cancer out ! 

VIII. 

Dark festering dens, all pagan-crammed — 

Disease and filth there reign — 
Make foul our town. We stopped them once, 

The tide pours in again. 
But venal gold may lose its power, 

And corporations doubt 
Their pluck and power to meet the hour 

We drive the Chinese out. 



"ON THE BRINKS 20 ~ 

IX. 



We watch the course of failing- trades — 

See skill and talent wait 
In idle loss, and count each month, 

Here at our Golden Gate ! 
A fresh invasion — opium-smeared 

Each dirty Chinese lout. 
There comes a bloody day and dark 

To drive the villains out ! 

x. 

Shall pagan crime our children slime — 

And mongrel races breed — 
With empty mouth and idle hands 

Our starving ones to feed. 
We listen to Desperation's voice 

And bare our right arms stout, 
There'll be a crash the day we rise 

And cut the cancer out ! 



XI. 

These voices rise from men who love 

Their children, homes and wives — 
And to a holy cause and great 

We dedicate our lives. 
Just is our claim, on triumph bent, 

In peace or else without, — 
From honest hearts an oath goes up- 

We drive these devils out ! 



20 g " ON THE BRINK." 

XII. 

Oh ! swimmers in the golden tide 

Of wealth, look out ahead — 
The day will come when death is cheap ! 

There's ten per cent, on bread. 
When not an earthly power can stem 

These floods when once let out ! 
The passions wild of maddened men, 

Who scourge these rascals out. 



THINK OF LEE AND JACKSON: 



209 



"Gbfnft of Xee ano Sacftson." 

Waiting for the battle, November 1, 1880. 



To-night, in mystic watch beside the armor of 

her sons, 
The spirit of Columbia waits and mourns her 

fallen ones. 
With eagle glance to pierce the gloom and read 

our fate aright, 
She kneels at Freedom's altar now — the priestess 

of the night. 
Sad gazing on our war-worn ranks, where vacant 

files there be, 
She whispers, with a trembling lip— My children, 

think of Lee \ 

Think of the dreadful battle years ! think of our 
country's woe ; 

Think of the poor, down-trodden black you freed 
so long ago ; 

Think of the wasted homes lit up with reason's 
blazing brands ; 

Think of the rebel raising now his murder-reek- 
ing hands ! 
14 



2 j " THINK OF LEE A ND J A CKSON." 

Think of your God and country, of the smiling 

land you see 
Spread out to-day in sweet array — the land of 

Robert Lee. 



Who sold the bondsman's offspring ? Who 

burned our ships afloat ? 
Who held the slaver's bowie knife at Freedom's 

shrinking throat ? 
Who failed to beat in battle, but now steal within 

our lines 
To babble Treason's folly in the shade of 

Northern pines ? 
Who bids a bribe for traitors ? My children, 

look and see 
Embattled on to-morrow's field the men who rode 

with Lee ! 

Think yet again of Robert Lee ! Our country's 

ward in youth, 
With place and power and genius great ! alas, 

not great in truth ! 
Who turned the sword Virginia gave against his 

country's breast, 
And rode in civil war's mad whirl with Jackson 

and the rest ! 
Ah ! Better had he died a child by a fond 

mother's knee, 
Than bleed his country's mother breast ! — my 

children, think of Lee ! 



" THINK OF LEE AND J A CKSON. " 2II 

Turn ! turn again, ye veterans of many Southern 

fights ! 
And range round freedom's fastnesses beneath 

the northern lights. 
Meet once again ! our flag above in steadfast 

manly calm — 
Wait for the battle shock of old — " the Pine 

against the Palm ! " 
Think of the homes you love, of right, of law and 

liberty, 
And deal a blow as long ago you gave the hosts 

of Lee. 



Enough ! I hear the gathering hosts who stand 

for God and right ; 
The Northern eagle leaves his pine and circles in 

the night ; 
The morning mists roll far away ! Close up ! 

Your ranks I scan. 
Firm as a rock ! A leader's there who's every 

inch a man. 
Our Grant, who smote them hip and thigh, this 

battle morn I see, 
Point there the way to victory with the captured 

sword of Lee ! 

The spring shall bring its blossoms forth and 

peaceful harvests yield 
Their golden gains on many a once blood-reeking 

battle-field ; 



212 " THINK OF LEE A ND J A CKSON. " 

The swallows build in silent guns when victory's 

salvos die, 
And evening stars of thankfulness shall light our 

Northern sky ! 
Bring, then, in peace your offerings ! Bend at 

our graves the knee, 
And breathe a Heaven imploring prayer for 

Jackson and for Lee ! 



KAISER WILLIAM REVIEWS HIS GUARDS. 2I , 



•Raiser William IRevfews hie <3uar&s. 

Templehof, Berlin, August 18, 1894. 



Heavens ! How it stirs the blood to see, 
Far stretching, the emerald band 
Of Templehof — for here the Guards, 
Full twenty thousand, stand. 

Ready ! The wind shakes the linden leaves, 

The Uhlans' pennons wave ; 

And the lines, embattled, sweep afar 

In a silence stern and grave. 

Out from the busy city pours 

A sullen burgher crowd, 

And a hundred thousand, breathless, wait 

To hear the clarion loud. 

To the west, the palace barracks 
Shames the toiler's hovel mean ; 
And prince and beggar throng to-day 
To view the heart-thrilling scene. 

Far stretches the doubled battle line : 
The flower of the Prussian Foot 



2 j . A'^ AS'.EA' WILLI A M RE VIE WS HIS G UA RDS. 

Is here, with the horsemen ranged behind ; — 
Then the guns — with their voices mute ! 

Brilliant hussar and the lancers gay ; 

The steel-sheathed cuirassier ; 

The Kaiser's Guards, and with star and plume 

The Generals hover near. 

Out on the green he dashes now 

By "divinest right of Kings " — 

The eagle-eyed German Kaiser 

Whose pawns are these senseless things ! 

For he, is the Hohenzollefn chief ;- 
And it made me hold my breath 
To think that one wave of his lordly hand 
Could send all these men to death ! 

Bursting in wild acclaim, the bugles 
Wail to the echoing sky ; 
And " Hoch ! " yells the loyal soldier 
As his Kaiser goes riding by ! 

Golden his sash, the silver eagle 
Soars over his kingly head, 
And the star on his cuirass flashes — 
His black has a stately tread. 

After her lord, in a robe of white, 
Rides the winsome Kaiserin, 
And a sparkling train of nobles ; 
The music has ceased its din. 



KA ISER WILLI A M RE VIE \VS HIS GUAR DS. 2I c 

Now — the Emperor looks toward Russia, 

As they wait the imperial glance 

Or one wave of his hand ; but that battle line 

Is sternly facing France ! 

And now they break into column 
In knightly passage, they own 
The awful oath that binds them down 
To the steps of the German Throne ! 

The dazzle of colors and glitter 

Of stars blinds my dreaming eye, 

And I lose for a moment this passion play 

In a vision of years gone by. 

I see them ! Those fair-haired English lads 
Who lay by the dark Redan,— 
The peerless French horse who withered 
In the hell fire of Sedan ! 

The darlings of Russia lying 

At Plevna, with sightless eyes, 

And the thousands who bled at Majenta 

"To please their Majesties." 

Our land has its holy of holies 
Where we " tried out our case " by might, 
And brothers' heart's blood long watered 
Our fields, where both fought for the right ! 

The lean, gray-eyed Virginians 
Whom peerless Pickett led — 



2 ! 6 KA ISER WILLI A M RE VIE WS HIS GUA RDS. 

Ah ! That field of Spottsylvania, 
With its piles of brave Yankee dead ! 

" Why are there so many soldiers ? " 
Asks the little maid at my side — 
And I start, and dare not answer, 
41 Just to flatter a monarch's pride ! " 

For death stops the path to glory ! 

I muse — " Does he understand 

He must not that royal sword unsheath, 

Save for the Fatherland ? " 

Ah ! Prussia ! Your days of greatness 
Came with Frederic the Wise, 
And 'tis only the Sword of the German State, — 
That before the Kaiser lies ! 

He passes beneath my window ! 
And — a shuddering burgher band 
Gaze anxiously on their Kaiser, 
With that sword so near his hand ! 



THE SONG OF THE CA VALRY BUGLE. 217 



Gbe Song of tbe Cavalry JBuslc. 
1 861-1865. 

AN OLD SOLDIER'S REVERIE. 



In the hush of the calm and peaceful night, 

When all is lone and still, 
I think I hear an old-time strain, 

An echo from the hill ; 
My heart beats fast — my pulses bound — 

Old friends I seem to see — 
The ringing, singing bugle brings 

The old days back to me ! 

I care not for the serried ranks — 

The battery's rumbling noise — 
The patter of fleet chargers' hoofs 

Alone — bids me rejoice — 
With old-time saucy yellow crests 

We swept across the lea — 
When the ringing warrior bugle sang 

Its sweetest note to me ! 

I know its voice — each clarion note 
That bade my heart-strings thrill ! 



?I g THE SONG OF THE CAVALRY BUGLE. 

There's " Reveille," — and " Stables " 
With " Taps " when all is still ! 

The " Forward " — now — the " Rally " — 
And " Charge " — it used to be — 

In olden days through battle-smoke — 
The bugle sang to me ! 

I heard that voice above the fight 

At " Aldie " when with pride 
We drove the foe, it sadly sang 

When Philip Kearny died ! — 
At Yellow Tavern, too, it wailed 

A requiem, wild and free — 
And, how it thrilled at " Opequan " 

The loyal blood in me ! 

Great God ! that day and grand array 

Crowds back from buried years ! 
With Custer's face — the scene to grace 

And Lowell's name brings tears ! 
With Bayard, Buford and the rest — 

Gone to Eternity. 
The ringing singing bugle's note 

Has magic power of me ! 

Kilpatrick ! daring gallant soul 
And Dahlgren's graceful shade — 

With Sheridan — still in the van 
In battle-garb arrayed ! 

They've ridden to the silent night — 
Yet oft their forms I see — 



THE SONG OF THE CAVALRY BUGLE. 2I g 

When the ringing singing bugle brings 
The old clays back to me ! 

Oh ! Loved and lost on every field, 

Your heads are lying low ; 
Some where the roses bloom in peace 

And some 'neath prairie snow — 
The olden music calls you up, 

Again I seem to see — 
The men I loved to follow when 

The bugle sang to me ! 



2 2 O " THERE'S ROSE MA R 1 V 



" £bere's IRoscmar^— Gbat's for IRemenn 
brance." 

1894. 



Again the solemn day returns 
When, round the graves of brave and true, 
We wreathe our gallant soldiers' urns, 
With rosemary and rue 

For thirty-three long years have seen 
Our flag stream out on every sky : 
No other banner o'er our dead,— 
No brighter stars their canopy. 

Since last the Stars and Bars came down, 
When hostile cannon ceased to roar, 
The stars that glitter o'er our dead, 
Once thirty-six — are forty-four ! 

And " Round the flag " — we rally still, 
The veterans brought by maid and wife 
To wreathe the shrines where brothers lie, 
Who gave our Land each precious life 

They held their breast to battle's blast, 
That we might live in peace, to-day ; 



" THERE'S ROSE MA RV» 221 

And, as our country's songs we voice, 
We brush the bitter tears away. 

Flowers for the Brave ! And Love's fond wreath, 
Lie lightly on their gallant breasts ! 
For tender maid and gallant youth, 
Mourn where the silent hero rests ! 

Raise high the song ! Lift up the hand ! 
Beside the soldiers' flower-decked sod, 
Be ours to-day, to keep the oath 
They kept — to Country and to God ! 

The myrtle and the laurel twine 
Around the rosemary and rue ! 
Let children's voices raise to-day, 
Hosannas for the brave and true ! 

These crumbling names on mossy stones 
Recall the void in aching hearts, 
But all the pride our country owns 
To us a newer flame imparts ! 

The patriot here, — the hero there, 
Deep hidden from our mortal eyes, — 
Unite to-day in grateful prayer, 
Where every silent soldier lies ! 

The ranks grow thin we muster here, 
For comrades gather up above ; 
And take their places once again, 
In blue lines, golden linked, in Love ! 



222 



THE DEAD SPEAK FOR THE LIVING. 



XXbe Dead Speaft for tbe Xiving. 

Veterans' Home, San Francisco, Thanksgiving Day, 



There's a voice from the death-haunted forests- 

A sound by the storied shore — 
A note in the breeze through the lonely trees, 

That speaks of the days no more. 

Our war-flags are worn and tattered, 
The bright swords gnawed by rust, 

And the men who swung them feeble now, 
Or mute in their kindred dust. 

The grim, loud-speaking cannons, 
Are muzzled near twenty years — 

Ah ! side by side with the foeman's pride, 
Lie the silent volunteers ! 

Some sleep in the proudest warrior rest, 
Hold yet their dead ranks in line ; 

Some to sunnier lands by friendly hands, 
Borne in tenderness divine. 

We rear for the dead the marble shaft, 
We wreathe their graves with flowers — 

Our dimmed eyes glisten — in vain we listen 
For the gallant boys "of Ours." 



THE DEAD SPEAK FOR THE LIVING. 

Yet, to-day, beyond their ghostly lines, 
Where their silent watch they keep, 

Where'er our flag is consecrate, 
On land or 'neath the deep ! 

A cry swells like the ocean's moan, 

From lips we cannot see — 
The last appeal from brothers lost, 

Our country's chivalry. 

They call from the gloomy gravepits, 
And whisper from out the tomb ; 

" Our brothers ! torn and shattered ! 
Say ! Shall they have a Home ? " 



223 



224 



IN THE RANKS. 



f n tbe IRanfts. 

The Major's Story. 



" How did I get in the ranks ? 

Well ! Major, I'll tell you the truth ! 

I was born very far above this, 

And Fortune smiled on my youth ! " 

So "Gentleman Burke," said slowly, his eyes 

fixed full on mine, 
As, hid in a Bad Lands canyon, 
We watched the red sun decline. 
'Twas a desperate ride, for, man to man, 
We had stood the Sioux off all day, 
And the trooper and I were stealing out 
To bring help from far away. 
" Why was I there ? " 'Twas my duty, 
And high time some one should go, 
So, I chose Trooper Burke, the best rider,' 
Beyond any man I know ! 
There was a hint of Galway, 
Or the Curragh of Kildare, 
The old Enniskillens — in his hand— 
The lightest rider there. 
Game ! All the devils from Hell 



IN THE RANKS. 22 r 

Could not show him a soldier's work ! 

All the men of the regiment knew full well 

The nerve of " Hard Riding Burke ! " 

I had often tried to win him 

Across the thin golden line 

Of rank, but a silent pride would still, 

In his fearless gray eyes shine ! 

But, on this night, it was man and man, — 

For rank was a mockery then ! 

As we clutched our " Winchesters " tightly, 

While hid in the Devil's Den. 

"We may not both get through — so, I'll tell 

you, — 
There's a child, — there, — far away, — 
And, she'll be a Burke of Clanricarde — 
God bless her ! — I hope, some day. 
There's the address ! I'd have them know 
If anything chance to me ; 
'Twill settle the score of long ago ! 
That letter from over the sea ! " 
Hid in the deep gully — waiting night — 
In this hour of the dying day, 
We crouched in fear, lest a charger's whinny 
Should give us " dead away ! " 
For the bold " dog soldiers " were riding 
In war-paint, near and far, 
And, we braced ourselves for a rattling run 
Beneath the blue North-star ! 
We crunched the broken-up hard-tack 
And pork from the scanty store, 
They forced upon their messengers, 

*5 



22 5 IN THE RANKS. 

The men they might see no more ! 

And, the shadows crept down, then blackening 

The slopes of each towering hill, 

And that trooper lay there beside me, 

I think I can see him still ! 

"Here's the address, now, Major ! " he handed a 
well-worn card. 

II Don't use it, unless you can answer, if you 

meet me afterward. 
I've lived like a devil, just as hard, as any mortal 

can, 
But, only let little Aileen know, her father died 

like a man ! 

" You see ! I was young, when I met her 
In Her Majesty's Service, then, — 
Ah ! Major ! Don't ask the Regiment, 
For, you'd have to guess again ! 

" I was the younger son, — and going a rattling 

pace, 
When, all my soul leaped up at the sight of that 

woman's face ! 
One of those goddess women, who make the 

unhappiest wives, 
Fatally born to rule over, and wreck we mad 

men's lives ! " 
And while the night winds wailed, he bowed his 

head and then 
His bitter tears fell fast, on the stones of the 

Devil's Den ! 



IN THE RANKS. 22 y 

" She was another man's wife, the old, old 

story, you know ! — 
He was a brute ! I loved her ! oh ! God ! and — 

she would not go ! 
Every day the flame grew fiercer within my 

heart, — 
Was there never a pitying storm of Life to drift 

our souls apart? 
No ! For that lily face, — the violet eyes were still 
In my daily life, in my tossing dreams, they 

hovered for good or ill. 
I shunned her walks ! I tried to tear her out of 

my fiery heart. 
She saw my struggle ! It woke her love ! We 

could not live apart ! 
We tried the old, old fiction — you know — to play 

with love's mad fire, 
But every clasp of our burning hands only drew 

our two souls nigher ! 
Of course she was happy ! I was blind ! He 

saw the love in her eyes ! 
He struck her, the brute, in my presence ! — I 

know how a craven dies ! 
For the fatal chance had come on us ! He 

knew we were in his power, 
And, that stained my hand with blood ! The 

curse of that luckless hour ! 
I fled ? ah ! yes ! You can guess the rest ! 

Disgraced ! a family shame. 
And then, from the rolls of. the Horse Guards, 

they struck out my blackened name. 



22 8 IN THE RANKS. 

It was all my fault ! I was the man, and — I could 

not keep away 
From the woman I loved ! Her sweet face haunts 

me, unto this very day ! 
Young, and too good for sorrow, a prey to the 

canting rules, 
That break the hearts of the loving, — and cover 

the knaves and fools ! 
Lighter step did never the listening roses wake ; 
And her eyes had a tender sheen, like the 

dreaming star on the lake. 
Dian and Venus tinted her cheek, and gave her 

her wind-blown hair. 
A gentler heart never fluttered beneath a bosom 

as fair ! 
There was no one knew my track, but a priest 

whom I loved in my youth. 
He shielded me, God bless him, but spoke out 

the bitter truth, — 
* Breaking heart, and blood-stained hand, your 

passion's work this day. 
I'll watch over her, though,' he said, ' when 

you are far away ! 
When you are safe in hiding, — when you've 

your reason quite, — 
Let me tell her you are living — only for that you 

can write.' — 
So, where the wild waves fling their crests, 

over an alien sea, 
I hid for three weary years ! By Heaven, she 

came over there, to me ! 



IN THE RANKS. 22 g 

For never the priest was born could withstand 

Aileen's eyes ; 
And, the black robe hides a human heart, though 

buried deep it lies ! 
There was a glimpse of Heaven on Earth ! God 

bless her, I married her then. 
And little Aileen came to us ! I lifted my head 

again, — 
But, there was a viewless devil too, that walked 

unseen at my side, 
And, her arms clung close round my necl^ in love, 

on that winter night she died. 
Ah ! But the heavy heart I bore, as I laid my 

dead love to rest, 
And my little Aileen dropped the last rose on her 

' pretty mamma's ' breast ! 
I covered my dead from the sight of men ! I sent 

the child away, 
To where the purpling shadows wreathe the 

crags of Galway Bay. 
And up and down the wide world, I wandered, 

a price on my head, — 
For the priest is the one man faithful, and, — Aileen 

thinks I am dead. 
So ! There you are ! A broken heart, — a man 

with a stain on his life — 
Who is dead and buried already, in the grave of 

his vanished wife ! 
I tried all the world's hard ways, — but a trooper's 

jacket's the best, — 
' It covers a multitude of sins, 'out here in the 

trackless west ! " 



230 IN THE RANKS. 

There was no sound but the night wind, wailing 

soft and low, 
As Burke unhobbled the horses, and whispered 

" It's time to go ! " 
For red Aldebaran hung over us, up there in the 

gloomy sky, 
And as we swung into our saddles, I caught the 

bold trooper's eye. 
He tosssed up his carbine lightly, marked the star 

to fix his north, 
And gaily cried " Now, Major ! Good luck to 

the dear old Fourth.' 
He turned his eyes away from me then, to cover an 

outcast's pride ! 
As I grasped his hand, for the only time, as I 

galloped along at his side ! 
Down, down into the gulf of night, we rode with 

bated breath, 
And sped along where each moment might bring 

us to our death. 
For even the horses knew it, as the wolf's long 

howl rang out, 
And the sneaking coyotes barked afar like the 

dogs of an Indian scout ! 
Burke had a second set of the messages, hid in 

my breast 
And he rode as light as a race rider, with his 

carbine poised at rest. 

I thought of a dear face watching, afar in the 
East, for me, 



IN THE RANKS. 2 T.\ 

And I dreamed, as I rode, of my boyish days, of 

camp and reveille ; 
Of my youthful soldier fancies, before the frontier 

I knew, — 
Ot those girls at the Point, whose glances were 

deadlier than the Sioux ! 
Still, still at my side, in that awful ride, the 

trooper lithe sped on, 
With his yearning dreams of that vacant chair, 

and the loved one dead and gone ! 
Perchance, his thoughts had wandered far, to 

Aileen, there, at play — 
Where the yeasty surges whiten round the 

smiling Galway Bay. 
And a silence wrapped these dreamy hours where 

only the charger's feet 
Kept time to the agony that thrilled in my care- 
worn heart's quick beat. 
Far, far behind us, leaguered sore, our blue-clad 

brothers lay, 
Who looked to us to send the help, with the dawn 

of their battle-day. 
As mile after mile receded, Burke raised his head 

in pride, 
" By Jove ! I think we'll make it, Major ! a lucky 

ride ! " 
For there, before us, distant loomed, a point 

which both well knew, — 
And down behind it lay the camp, with help to 

fight the Sioux 1 



2 , 2 IiV THE RANKS. 

Mile after mile we covered until rose the star of 

Hope !— 
Alas ! for our self-confidence, we vainly round 

did grope — 
It was the blindest riding there without a glint of 

light, 
When we ran into a hostile camp, screened in 

the gloom of night. 
" Indians ! " was Burke's last startled cry, 

" Major ! Don't wait ! Ride on ! " — 
And as the rifles rang out sharp, I felt all hope 

was gone ! [g ra y» — 

Wheeling in a mad dash, I spurred the frightened 
And wildly he sprang out through the night and 

swiftly raced away. 
I dared not turn or draw my rein, or even look 

behind, 
For the fate of a whole command was gaged on 

that race in the chill night wind ! 
Crack ! crack ! behind ! I knew it well, — the 

rattling carbine's ring ! — 
And then, the Indian's frantic yells around a 

senseless thing ! 
I drew no rein until I rode into camp with blood- 
shot eyes, — 
And roused them there upon the Platte, an hour 

before sunrise ! 
The gallant gray had never lowered his graceful 

racing head, 
But, when he reached the picket line, he staggered 

— and fell dead ! 



IN THE RANKS. 2 ,, 

My pistols empty ! Both ! By God ! I hope I did 

some harm ! — 
They told me I rode fifteen miles with a broken 

bridle-arm. 
" You shall be named in orders," said the Colonel, 

" for this work ; " 
As he ordered " Boots and Saddles," but my heart 

was back, — with Burke ! 
The story drove all frantic ! I told where the 

village lay, — 
And they rode out as the crow flies, before the 

break of day. 
There were ringing cheers and sudden tears as 

the sun on that fight went down, 
And the leaguered troopers saw afar their 

comrades gaunt and brown. — 
With fluttering guidons on they rode, and drove 

the Brules far, — 
The quest was done ! The lucky chance, of that 

stern frontier war. 

Before the fever left me, the surgeon at his 

work, 
Growled " You had lost your reason, — and, only 

called for Burke ! " 
Alas ! My trooper comrade ! When they bore 

the poor shell back ; 
It told of tortures far beyond grim Torquemada's 

rack. 
We gave him soldiers' honors, with ringing 

volleys three, 



2 , 4 IN THE RANKS. 

Laid there beside the Platte, to wait the Last 

Great Reveille" ! 
It was a month before my eyes gazed on a 

brighter scene ! 
I had Father Cullen's letter, with the sweet face 

of Aileen ! 
'Twas my hand sent her mother's picture to the 

little maid ; 
I kept a curl of baby hair, and thought what 

Burke had said, 
The " dandy Fourth " my secret shared, and 

then we all began 
To show the Galway maiden, that her father 

died a man ! 
" God rest him ! " Father Cullen wrote. " His 

soul is white again ! 
He gave the life he shadowed once, to save his 

fellow-men. 
Love in their ashes lingers, who paid the price 

on earth, 
So back to Galway send him, to the spot that 

gave him birth ! " 
To-day a tombstone bearing " Burke of the 

Fourth," in pride — 
Shines out in that far chapel, his by vanished 

Aileen's side ! 

Yes ! There were dear eyes waiting, afar, to 

shine on me ! 
A slender hand, with wedding ring, clasped mine 

upon the sea. 



IN THE RANKS. 2 ,e 

We wandered to the land that's loved, •« the 

dearest and the most," — 
And in the Galway hills, we knew the priest, a 

gentle host. 
Tears hovered in my darling's eyes, the kindest, 

in their mien, 
As to her breast she clasped in love, — the 

trooper's child, Aileen ! 
" She is her mother's picture ! God's child ! 

fair, and innocent ! " 
He raised his hand ! in blessing, and, forth in 

peace, we went ! — 
The little maid wears " sabres crossed," which 

bear our number, " Four," — 
And dreams in pride of Trooper Burke, whose 

battle-days are o'er ! 



236 



A IV AIL FROM AFAR I 



21 "email from Bfar ! 

A Ballad of '94. 



Tis "sweet" to hear the honest watch-dogs 

" bark," 
'Tis sweet to own a bark — "upon the sea," 
'Tis sweet to go upon a private lark 
And have a frolic, on the " strict q. t." ; — 
But sweetest joy of all, beyond the pond, 
The lean-eyed Yankee, chancing far to roam, 
Finds, is to sit down in a lonely hour, 
And energetically howl for Home ! 

" Breathes there a man " — there does, an "awful 

lot," 
Who care not for the land which gave them 

birth, 
But, when they wander, by their friends forgot, 
They are the greatest " kickers " on the earth ! 
The things they hated when in Podunkville — 
They growled at all the universe — 
Become delightful as the kicker finds, 
That over here all things are worse ! 



A WAIL FROM AFAR! 2 ?j 

You miss the papers and the telegrams, 
The very " ads " at which we roar — 
The face of the Cosmetic Man — 
And Lydia Pinkham, greet no more ! 
In strange old "burgs," of lingo harsh- 
The boring tour you stumble through, 
Alone and sad, you'd hail as friend 
The man of the Three Dollar Shoe ! 

The towns you scorned in Yankeeland 
Shine out with fond affection's tints. 
Your enemies you also miss, 
Who are howled at in the daily prints ! 
For all seems dear when over here, 
Though beer is cheap, and food is bad. — 
For the old " flesh-pots " come to you, 
Which once in Yankeeland you had ! 

Those Yankee girls away at home, 
Love shining in their sparkling eyes ! 
The roar of Broadway, and — the Cops, 
The journals with delightful lies ! 
The telephone with "git up git," 
The hackmen's howl discordant, far, 
Our Yankee drinks, our Yankee yachts 
And even, the festive Pullman car ! 

For chilly Boston smiles — at last, — 
And — Washington draws from afar, 
And slumbrous Philadelphia shines 
Out as a " bright particular star ! " 



238 A WAIL FROM AFAR! 

And, even at — Chicago's — name — 
The exile does not stand aghast, 
St. Louis is a rattling burg — 
And Cincinnati charms — at last ! 

The " good square meal " you'd like to feel, 
Enshrined within you where you are, — 
The magazines you throw away, 
The journals with their daily jar, 
The newsboy, and the shackling L, 
The vilest nuisances are dear — 
For when you rove alone and sad 
You pay to find there's nothing here ! 

You catch the " home disease " at once 
When met with blooming British scorn, 
Among the plodding Germans, too, 
You learn to wish you'd not been born ! 
The smiling Frenchman, " Voila tout," 
The wild Italian " hairy man," 
And, driven through uncouth Russia far,— 
The unspeakable cold Austrian ! 

The dreary plays, the heavy wit, 
The prima-donnas by the ton ! — 
The tower of Babel crowding round 
Who scalp the Yankee, every one ! 
The fights at frontier and the way 
That people live in these far lands — 
Then, howls of wild profanity 
Break out which no one understands ! 



239 



A WAIL FROM AFAR ! 

You meet upon some dirty lane 

A strange, dejected, bearded man — 

And quarrel, kiss, and then make up, 

Because he's an American ! 

Pent up, harassed you madly hear 

The land you love so, always mocked, 

And suffer all the woes of life 

The fanes of Justice tightly locked ! 



Think, after six months rolls around, 

Of all the comforts that you left ! 

Of your pet " girl," your cozy club, 

Of all the joys you're now bereft ! 

And then you learn that distance lends 

A fond enchantment to the view, 

You cash your credit, buy a berth 

And cry " Now ! Captain ! Put her through ! 

Oh ! Friends at home who fondly paint 
One in the arms of Dukes and Earls, 
And " having the most royal time " — 
Be happy with your Yankee girls, 
Your Yankee joys, and all that makes 
Columbia what we fondly love ! 
If anything you lack at home 
Wait till you reach the realms above ! — 

A yearner now from " Yearnerville ! " 
How gladly out my cash I'd fork, 
And even through winter's storms be glad 
m To take the back track " to New York ! 



2dO A WAIL FROM AFAR ! ' 

Yes ! Every word wells from my heart ! 
I've tried my feelings to express ! 
I close this with a bitter sigh 
And seal it " Fondly— R. H. S. ! " 



LOOKING BACKWARD. 



241 



XoofetttG JBacfcwatD. 



There's many a friend grim Time has stolen 
And worlds of feeling sadly changing, 
Hopes, dearly cherished winged afar 
And cloudland's visions farther ranging ; 
Of all that marks the passing years, 
Recalling each eventful scene- 
Yet dearer growing every day, 
The treasure is my old " dhudeen ! " 

A gift in vanished college days ! 

My feelings then were warm and plastic, 

As on Life's way I sped along 

With sunlit brows, youth's step elastic. 

I've roughed it through a varied world, 

Felt many a blow, and, unforeseen, 

Have struck the treacherous hidden snag — 

But stuck fast to the old " dhudeen." 

Oh ! boyhood's dreams ! Ah ! vows of love ! 
Sweet brightest eyes ! What follies spoken ! 
Of heads and hearts and good resolves 
A goodly number I've seen broken ! 
16 



2 . 2 LOOKING BA CKIVA RD. 

Long dropped the golden threads I prized 
And seen strange fortunes intervene : — 
Where'er I roamed, let come what would 
I've carried off my old " dhudeen ! " 

Old Pipe ! I've borne you 'round the world 
Have puffed, in silence, many seasons 
Have sought your comfort, gained from you 
For every folly thousand reasons ! 
Whenever from the straight path I 
Have wandered in dull error, often, 
You for my blindness made amends, 
And strove my bitterness to soften! 

We've seen the radiant sun go down 

On many a vista, famed in story. 

We've dreamed our dreams and seen the light 

Fade from sweet visions, lit with glory. 

Whatever fate has dealt me out, 

Of many things it has bereft me ! 

Dear faithful servitor of old ! 

I'm happier now that you are left me ! 

By woodland trail, on ocean's waste, 

Along the desert grim and sandy, 

We've made the world wide tour " in style " 

Sahara to the Rio Grande ! 

Through love-lit bowers, by paths of flowers, 

To where the way was dark and sterile, — 

In changing sunshine and in showers — 

In scenes of joy and hours of peril ! 



LOOKING BACKWARD. 343 

We've travelled " first class ; " — we have trudged 
The frontier — foemen to distress us. 
We've " shone " in Paris, we have known 
The flattering schemer to caress us ! 
We've had our agony in Rome, 
Alone, — each fevered day, grown thinner — 
We've cashed our chips in ringing gold — 
And " shared the luck " with saint and sinner ! 

We've stood up to these turns of fate, 
When fortune smiled and friends were eager, 
Dark days in sickness we have passed 
Away from home, in bivouac meagre, — 
And yet in looking back, old friend, 
We cannot say life's cards have lacked us, 
And might have played a brilliant game 
If prudent wisdom always backed us ! 

I've watched with you the anxious night — 
No star its blackness to illumine, 
Your friendly incense comfort lone 
When far from consolations humane. 
Mute, ready, faithful to my will, 
Your quiet service still to render, 
Though battered like your master now, 
Old friend ! For you, my heart is tender ! 

We've seen fond, bright eyes fade in death ! 
And heard Sin's wildest laughter ringing ! 
We've watched lost friendship's flickering breath 
And marked the hush in joyous singing ! 



2 , , LOOKING BACKWARD. 

Long years have scattered, stern and grave, 
The friends and comrades of our choosing ! 
Ah yes ! We ve drained the cup of life 
With not one bitter drop refusing ! 

To-night, alone, I sit with you, 
Dim distance parts ! Time backward rolling- 
I see, through smoke-wreaths, graceful dream, 
Lost youth ! No funeral knells are tolling ! 
All the old friends and loves I've known 
Come back in gentle troops together ! 
The darkness lightens, life seems bright ! 
And there is naught but sunny weather ! 

'Tis ever so ! Our happiest hours 
Are creatures of some fond delusion ! 
When .throng upon the softened heart 
Bright glimpses in a wild confusion ! 
So let it be ! I dream away 
In perfect bliss : While slowly breathing 
Your incense rare the blue smoke clouds 
Around my frosted locks are wreathing ! 

We'll let the world go by us, friend ! 
We hold in heart still cause to love it ! 
For what is base, mean, slavish, low, 
Why! you and I can rise above it ! 
Far lifted over petty jars — 
A peace with every wanderer sharing, 
And, in our hearts down out of sight 
A glowing coal of feeling bearing ! 



L OOKING BACKWARD. 2 . ^ 

The sunlight eyes ! the songs of old ! 
The lips I've kissed, you bring back ever ! 
The fond communion of long years, 
'Twixt you and I, no blow can sever ! 
And when your friendship I've resigned 
The record's closed ! A last sad token ! 
We struggled on 'till life was vain — 
And heart and pipe were cold and broken ! 






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